


The Spirit of the Valley

by mermaidfinn



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Autistic Chloe (Detroit: Become Human), Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bisexual Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Carl Manfred & Markus Parent-Child Relationship, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has PTSD, Connor has CPTSD, Discord: RK1K Server, F/F, F/M, Farmer Markus, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Josh is gay Demetrius (no they are not married), Kid Markus, Let the Junimos Say Fuck, M/M, Markus & North (Detroit: Become Human) Friendship, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Markus (Detroit: Become Human)-centric, Markus has ADHD, Mayor Hank, North is basically gay Robin, On Hiatus, POV Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Sheriff Connor, Slow Burn, Stardew Valley AU, due to irl circumstances lel but i promise i'll be back as soon as i'm safe, im giving chloe autism too bc its a buy one get one free deal and she n connor go shopping together, jenna marbles voice HELL YEAH, more tags to be added once i remember where i put my brain, my online friends are returning to sdv because of my fic and honestly?, rated T because Hank speaks in this fic lmao but it might change to mature later on, the gang's all here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidfinn/pseuds/mermaidfinn
Summary: "Everything here was so beautifully aged and embraced by nature, so far displaced from the mechanical coldness and grey that dominated the city. Here, every wildflower was allowed to grow and blossom while any stray bit of green sprouting out of the sidewalk in the city would be trampled by the shoes of busy people on the busy streets. Markus had only been in Pelican Town less than an hour, but he already knew that he was going to love his new home, maybe even feel like he belonged. No Joja to stomp on his dreams, no higher-ups to reject his pushes for change. Markus felt as free as the breeze turning over from winter into spring, and his heart fluttered at the possibilities ahead of him."RK1K Stardew Valley AU!!! Markus inherits his grandfather Carl's farm in Pelican Town and drops everything to pursue a simple life in the Valley as a farmer. The spirit of the valley calls to Markus, beckoning him and reigniting his passion for the wonders of nature. Another soul beckons him -- the lonely one of the Valley's sheriff, Connor, who worries that he'll never reconnect with the forest as the voices from the woods have long gone quiet for him.
Relationships: (is there a difference i thought they were the same chloe what the fuck), Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson/Rose Chapman, Kara/Luther (Detroit: Become Human), Main Menu Chloe | ST200/North, Original Chloe | RT600/North, Rose Chapman/Original Female Character
Comments: 33
Kudos: 31





	1. I Went to the Woods Because I Wished to Live Deliberately

**Author's Note:**

> "There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature—the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter." —Rachel Carson
> 
> 1/19/21 update: I edited and changed a few things in this first chapter to go along with ideas I have planned for future chapters <3 I'll include a brief overview of the changes in the notes section of chapter 2 in case you've already read chapter 1 and don't want to read it again

Mark Twain once said, “Find a job you enjoy doing, and you will never have to work a day in your life.”

_ What a pile of horse shit _ , Markus thought. Work was always work, no matter if he enjoyed it. That’s how it was and how it was always going to be, he imagined.

Markus typed away on the keyboard in front of him, hunched over and trying to finish his last reports for the day -- updating some documents on the Pollution Prevention Act. He knew that there’d be a lot of paperwork when he told his family he wanted to pursue a local government job, but it seemed like that was all he ever did. There were so many ideas for change and innovation that Markus brought to the table, but every time the opportunity arose, he’d get pushed aside by the old, white men with their designated seats, kept warm by more old, white men and their same ignorant beliefs for decades. The old, white men who’d been in power longer than Markus had been alive stuck to eating the same stale, old bread and lobbying for the same stale, old rules to be kept in place. Markus’s face flushed and fists clenched thinking about how the decisions of the old continued to wreak havoc on the earth that the new would inherit.

The whole reason Markus had gotten into an office job like this was to make actual change happen. He was just a scrappy environmental science major, so he thought he’d get taken seriously if he worked alongside the big suits. Maybe it was his unrelenting optimism that put the idea in his head that a job on the inside meant he’d be heard.  _ God, to be heard... _ He thought he’d be louder than as a voice on the streets, demanding change, and leading protests. It never felt right to be so wrong.

Markus’s fingers slowed the click-clacking on his keyboard as he reminisced about his days of freedom, days that belonged to him and not the oligarchical system he was chained to now. He’d adapted, hoping to evoke change but instead became another puppet of the state, and the state continued to be a puppet of the corrupt Joja Corporation. Joja funneled money into the mouth of whatever politician they needed to be silenced so their throne could remain untouchable as they watched with amusement while their plastic product and plastic empire took over the world.

_ Join us. Thrive... _

For six years, Markus had shut his mouth about wanting change in police reform, health and safety regulations for the working class, raising minimum wage to fit the current economic climate, adapting to progressive taxes, and putting action to the dozens of proposed plans to stop climate change. For any other wide-eyed, enthusiastic kid whose dream was to change the world, their soul would be crushed in his position. Their dreams would be diminished once they set foot into the real world, but Markus held on and pushed forward.

“Hold on just a little while longer,” he’d mutter to himself as he dragged his feet all the way home from another long day. 

“Hold on just a little while longer,” he’d written in dry-erase marker on his bathroom mirror -- a reminder he’d see every morning when he'd look past the dark circles under his eyes. 

  
  


-

“Hold on just a little while longer,” Markus mumbled the mantra quietly to himself, looking out the window of the intercity bus. His leg bounced with anticipation, but Markus managed to control his fidgeting enough to keep in time with the gentle music coming in through his earbuds. “Everything will be alright…”

The bus hissed and sighed as it rolled off the paved road and onto coarse gravel. Dirt and gravel crunched underneath Markus’s shoes, and he couldn’t help but dig his heels into the soil, loving the imperfect texture.

He’d said his thanks and farewells so many times already, but his arrival in Pelican Town made Markus’s journey feel all the more surreal. Markus thanked the bus driver and wished her well on her way back to the city. A small, quiet part inside of him was jealous that she got to return to a familiar, comfortable place. The Valley might have been considered his home twenty years ago, but he wasn’t a child anymore. He hadn’t known the Valley that way in a long time. 

Markus turned to face the trail ahead of him, and all traces of discomfort faded away. He breathed in the fresh air of the countryside, immediately forgetting his homesickness. Markus exhaled and chuckled when he realized he didn’t have to cough away the city smog or the stench of cigarette smoke.  _ So this is what freedom smells like _ …

As if on cue, a red-headed woman appeared and Markus’s senses were affronted by a new smell: manure lingering on her work boots. The woman noticed the way his nose wrinkled, and she threw her head back in laughter.

“Oh, ha, you’ll have to excuse the smell. I was helping our local livestock lady with something down on the ranch before I came to get you.” She extended a hand to a hesitant Markus. “My hands are cleaner than my boots, I promise.”

Markus shook her hand and smiled hesitantly.

“Anyway, you must be Markus, right? I’m North,” she grinned, shoving her hands in the pockets of her overalls. “Mayor Hank sent me to greet you and take you to your grandpa’s old place. He’s over there now, getting stuff ready for you to settle in, so just follow me,” North gestured to the dirt path behind her and picked up Markus’s heavy suitcase with ease.

“I can carry that,” Markus offered.

“Nah, I got it,” North smirked cheekily. “I don’t doubt you can lift this on your own, city boy, but trust me, you’ve got enough heavy lifting to do once we get to the farm.”

Markus returned her smirk and sighed, trying again. “Really, miss, I can handle it.”

“Oh, please, just call me North. And, no, I insist.” 

The two strangers continued to bicker like old friends until they reached the farm’s wooden gate. “Manfred Farm,” the sign read in chipped and faded forest green paint. Weeds and debris littered the pasture, and the almost-spring breeze rustled through, shaking the overgrown trees. There were cracked, moss-covered logs scattered across the ground and boulders blocking what little remained of the farm’s path up to the house. The stepping stones that once led to the old cottage would have been long forgotten under the growth, but the grass grew a little shorter in a winding trail up to the porch, evidence of a path paved by the tread of shoes.

North wasn’t kidding when she teased him about heavy lifting; this place needed tender-loving care and lots of it before it could grow crops. A lot had changed in the twenty years since Markus had been here last as a kid. Every inch of the Manfred property, now Markus’s, was reclaimed by the earth with a tight, unrelenting grip. Mother Earth seemed to also grasp tightly to Markus’s nerves, twisting and knotting as he looked around at all the work he’d have to do.

“Something wrong, Markus?” North noticed how pale Markus’s face had turned at the sight of the farm. She turned her gaze back to the field with a determined look in her eyes. “Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll get it cleaned up in no time.”

“You’re right,” Markus exhaled. “This’ll be a nice change of pace,” he said with a nod.

“That’s the spirit! Just don’t come crying to me when you get your hands dirty, and you’ll do great,” North teased, bumping shoulders with Markus as they approached the farmhouse porch.

An older man with shaggy grey hair and an even shaggier grey beard backed out of the cottage and closed the creaky wooden door with a slam to force the old thing shut. He turned around, eyes lighting up and a smile forming on his grumpy face at the sight of Markus before he frowned disapprovingly at the sight of North.

“North, quit being a little shit and stop showing off! You’re gonna hurt yourself,” the man scolded, taking the suitcase from her and setting it down on the porch. She rolled up the sleeves of her flannel and flexed, laughing when the man rolled his eyes. “Well, you must be the new farmer, Markus,” he greeted, offering his hand.

“Yes, I’m Carl Manfred’s grandson,” Markus replied, returning the man’s handshake with a firm grasp.

“You’ve grown up so much since the last time I seen ya. This place has changed a lot, too, while ya been gone. You probably don’t remember since you were so young, but me and your old man go way back. Name’s Hank, and I’m the mayor of Pelican Town,” he paused, noticing the way Markus’s eyes widening. “Ah, but don’t bother with titles and all that shit. You can call me Hank.”

Markus chuckled, “I think I remember you, Hank, from some of my grandpa’s pictures and stories. Carl sends his thanks, and he told me to say hi for him.”

“Yeah, well tell that bastard to come say it in person. It’s been too long,” Hank grumbled, eyes distant as he reminisced.

Markus wanted to clarify the severity of his grandpa’s health, but he held his tongue and decided to wait until he could share it in a more private moment.

“Folks have been goin’ nuts since they heard a new face would be coming to Pelican Town. Can’t blame ‘em though. Word spreads fast around here, and it’s been years since somebody new moved in,” Hank explained. “We’re a small town, so it shouldn’t take you long to get to know everyone,” he assured.

Markus beamed at the idea of making new friends. He just hoped that the residents here wouldn’t mind a city slicker like himself, but maybe he was just overthinking it.  _ Surely folks here won’t be as shallow as back home _ , Markus thought.

Hank gestured to the cottage behind him, “This used to be your old man’s along with the farm. It’ll be good to see it cleaned up and alive again.”

The wooden planks of the porch creaked and groaned under Hank’s weight, and one of the boards snapped when he climbed down the steps. Markus’s stomach dropped when the old man almost tripped, yelling out a loud, “Shit!” Hank gathered himself and laughed it off, teasing, “Yeah, this place sure is  _ rustic _ , but I think it’ll work just fine.”

“ _ Rustic _ ,” North scoffed, “more like  _ crusty _ . Markus can’t live in this shithole.” She turned to face Markus, grabbing both his shoulders to ground him for her proposal, “But don’t worry your little freckles about it. I can fixer-upper this cottage for you in no time,” she backed away with a wink, “for the right price of course!”

“Don’t listen to her, Markus. North’s just schmoozing ya since she hasn’t gotten to build anything big lately,” Hank chided.

“Can you blame a girl for trying to get commissioned?” North complained, crossing her arms with a huff. “All I get to do around here is simple repairs and furniture. I've been waiting to do something fun like a remodel,” she looked at Markus through the corner of her eyes before pointing at the cottage, “and this baby would be perfect! I could fix the foundation first, maybe even expand the structure a bit to get you a proper kitchen...” North trailed off letting her mind wander. 

Markus took a brave few steps up the unstable porch and smiled sympathetically at her, “I’ll definitely consider it, North. For my own safety,” he added, making the carpenter laugh.

“Aye, drama queens, the both of you,” Hank grouched. He pat Markus’s back with a strong arm and said his goodbyes, giving a stink eye to North who took it as her cue to leave as well. Hank carefully made his way back to the fence gate, dodging loose rocks and logs before turning back around. “Oh, Markus, I almost forgot! You got anything to sell, just put it in this bin here,” he gestured to a wooden box with a rusty metal latch. “Someone’ll come by at night to collect it, either my son or myself.”

_ Hank has a son? _ Markus thought. His mind began scrambling to remember if Carl mentioned Hank having a son, and Markus smirked to himself wondering if said son was around his age.  _ Or cute _ . Lost in thought, he barely heard Hank’s final goodbye and returned it with an awkward wave.

Markus shook his head, clearing away any thoughts straying from the task at hand. He’d only just arrived in Pelican Town, and there was already so much to do. It was midday and despite how tired he felt, Markus denied himself a nap in favor of exploring. 

His eyes wandered back to the pasture in front of him. It promised everything that Markus had been longing in his stifling, mundane desk job back in the city; it promised fresh air, freedom, and something to build from the ground up with his bare hands. It promised a safe place rooted in nostalgia from the time when nothing else mattered, and he could run and play in the forest without a care. Markus promised his grandpa, and he promised himself that he would not take this new life for granted, that he would appreciate every second and count every blessing this opportunity offered. 

He retraced his steps along the weeded, winding path to the farm’s fence gate where he started and gazed up at the old sign that marked his new home, “Manfred Farm”. 

Vines swirled and stretched along the worn, wooden plank, hugging every splinter and knot in the wood to climb as high as they could for their leaves to bask in the sun. Tall patches of native grasses were sprouting up from beneath the sign’s posts, and moss clung to the nails of the fence. The fence’s structure looked so fragile, like it would collapse if Markus stared at it for too long, but the artist in him wanted to ponder the rough grain of the wood or the rich amber and green colors for as long as he could. If only he’d brought along some of his paint supplies...

Everything here was so beautifully aged and embraced by nature, so far displaced from the mechanical coldness and grey that dominated the urban life. Here, every wildflower was allowed to grow and blossom while any stray bit of green sprouting out of the sidewalk in the city would be trampled by the shoes of busy people on the busy streets. Markus had only been in Pelican Town less than an hour, but he already knew that he was going to love his new home, maybe even feel like he belonged. No Joja to stomp on his dreams, no higher-ups to reject his pushes for change. Markus felt as free as the breeze turning over from winter into spring, and his heart fluttered at the possibilities ahead of him.

\- 

A familiar pain settled in Markus’s spine, similar enough to the ache he’d get from hunching over his desk for 12 hours a day, but this pain elicited an entirely different feeling in him. Maybe it was the burn in his thighs from stretching down to pull out the stubborn weeds, or maybe it was the fact that the light shining on him came from the sun rather than blinding blue light from a computer screen. Markus relished in the pain and in the beads of sweat collecting at his brow, ready to make their journey down his face and fall into the soil where his gloved hands worked. 

He hadn’t been able to find the tools that his grandfather left for him, so all Markus could do was use his hands until Carl returned his call. There’d been a tool shed behind the old cottage, but it was sealed by a rusty lock to which he had no key. It was either his excitement or his worry that kept Markus from waiting until he could unlock the shed or break the lock. He couldn’t wait any longer to kickstart the farm life, and even though the land and everything on it now belonged to Markus, it wouldn’t feel right to damage the property. Manfred Farm was a legacy that Markus now had to protect and uphold. He wanted to treat it with the same determined but gentle care that he’d given his grandfather while he recovered from his paralyzing accident. 

Coarse and resilient was the land, but Markus would only show tenderness and love to it. He knew that Mother Nature would never be appeased by violent or hasty gestures, but she would respond to love. Markus may have been a city boy the past few years of his life, but nothing could take away his green thumb or the spirit of nature within him that sprouted as a young child. 

Midday rolled into afternoon and tumbled over into early evening. Markus had ditched his flannel button up hours ago to feel the cool breeze on his arms, but his undershirt still got soaked from the sweat of hard work. A figure appeared by the fence gate, but Markus paid no mind as he was set on his task. 

It was certain that Markus was working hard, but the barely noticeable progress and buckets of sweat lost were evident that he should have been working smarter. 

The figure by the fence cleared their throat once, then twice before calling out to get Markus’s attention. “Excuse me, sir! Mister Manfred, I’m here to deliver some of your grandfather’s belongings and collect paperwork.”

Markus turned around, and his face suddenly felt hotter than it had been in the sun all afternoon. The man stood rigidly by the fence, exhaustion showed in his voice but not in his attentive posture or young, boyish face. He had pale, milky skin with freckles scattered across his face. Markus wanted to paint the enigma that stood just a few feet away from him; capture the soft, delicate expression in his brown doe eyes and the gentle smirk on his lips that contrasted beautifully with his sharp nose and jawline. Markus realized he was staring, not at all paying attention to what the man was saying.

“I’m so sorry, could you repeat that?” Markus interrupted, looking into the other’s eyes with a guilty expression.

The man paused with a puzzled expression on his face, head cocking to the side before speaking, and Markus would be lying if he tried to deny the way his chest tightened listening to the smokey, soft voice.

“Oh. I apologize for disturbing your hard work,” he gestured to the pathetically small pile of pulled weeds, no malice or sarcasm in his tone, “I’m sure you were making progress before I interrupted. I’ve actually been sent to deliver some of your grandfather’s belongings, including the key to his old shed.” He procured a small bronze key from an envelope in the back pocket of his jeans. “I assume you were trying to make do with your hands on all these stubborn weeds, right?” a small, polite smile formed on his face, and he extended his hand.

Markus took his hand with both of his own to show his gratitude. “Well, now it seems all my wishes have been granted.” He noticed the way the man stiffened under his touch, and he loosened his grip. The man seemed perplexed at Markus’s words. “Thank you…” Markus trailed off, waiting for a name.

“Sheriff Connor Anderson,” he supplied with a stone face, all business. “Mayor Hank sent me. And you’re Markus, correct?”

“Indeed I am, Sheriff,” Markus’s eyes dropped to their still connected hands. He released Connor’s hand and took a step back out of his space, wondering if the sheriff was shy or just closed-off. “Thank you again for coming all this way. You must be pretty busy.”

“Yes, as busy as one can be in such a small town,” Connor joked, eyes flickering downward as a grimace took over the small smile on his soft lips. “The work I do is simple but rewarding,” he assured Markus after seeing his expression fall at his bitter tone. “I’ll admit, I was... _ surprised _ to hear about your arrival,” his hands fidgeted as he spoke, and his eyes shifted nervously. “A new farmer. You’re certainly not what I was expecting...” Connor trailed off, eyes wandering down to Markus’s feet. His head cocked to the side again.

“What?” Markus asked.

“What are those? Why are you wearing sneakers?” Connor asked, staring at Markus’s shoes with genuine concern. Connor raised his brows and looked back up into Markus’s eyes, “You do have proper footwear, right? Work boots, anything?”

Markus shook his head. “Umm. Should I?”

“Not unless you’re comfortable getting your feet stuck in the mud and falling over.” Connor’s formal exterior fell away as he chuckled, and Markus loved the sound of the sheriff’s laughter. Connor stopped laughing and froze, worry shining in his eyes again. “Wait, those weren’t white before, were they?” his eyes widened as Markus sheepishly nodded. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of the city boy for getting mud on his Adidas,” Markus laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to make fun of you,” Connor quickly replied, tall posture deflating. “I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Despite being the county sheriff of the valley and standing six feet tall, Connor looked so small and powerless when his confidence fell. His shoulders shrugged, and it was like his soul shrank in on itself, scared to be seen for too long. Like Pavlov’s dog, something would trigger the brave and loyal dog into submission; however for Connor, the bell’s ringing would only tighten his leash and crush his spirit. Markus had been in that position before -- he’d been nothing but an obedient dog following a master’s orders. He wanted to know who could have hurt Connor so badly and why those scars seemed so similar to his own. He felt for Connor and wanted to quell his every worry and unnecessary apology.

“Don’t worry about it, Connor, I promise there’s no hard feelings at all. You’re really something...something good,” he clarified, enjoying Connor’s bemusement. “We’ve only just met, and I can tell you’re a good person. Funny, too.” Markus loved seeing the way his words seemed to mend Connor’s broken expression and how he grew more relaxed, but he wanted to see Connor’s smile again, even just for a second. “Though, now I’m a bit self-conscious that you don’t like my sense of fashion,” Markus pouted.

Connor paused for a brief moment, considering Markus’s words carefully before realizing he was joking again. “Oh!” he blushed and raised his hand to rub the back of his neck. “Well, then I hope you don’t mind my lack of a fashion sense. I usually have my hat on, but I think our dog stole it from me,” Connor admitted shyly, running a hand through his dark brown curls. 

“So you’re telling me you usually wear a cowboy hat?” Markus raised his eyebrows in disbelief. 

“Yes, I do. I’m not ashamed of it, either,” Connor grinned with pride. “It’s much better than getting my neck burned and perpetuating the country boy stereotypes.” Markus beamed at him, his smile widening so much that his cheeks might get sore. “What?”

“Nothing. Just never thought I’d meet a cowboy before,” Markus said, imagining how adorable Connor must look in his lost hat. “I’ll have to cross that one off my bucket list.”

“Yeah? What else are you looking to cross off the list?” Connor retorted cockily, leaning in.

“I’ll have to keep you updated, Sheriff, and let you know when I find it,” Markus flirted. He couldn’t help it, not when the bait was right there and how Connor blossomed before him.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find whatever it is you’re looking for, Markus.” Connor said earnestly, and his soft voice sent warm flurries into Markus’s chest. He turned to face the forest to the south and took a deep breath with a wistful look in his eyes. His eyes found Markus again, and they seemed to glow with hope in the darkening night of the sky. “The valley is full of surprises. There's a high probability you'll find it and so much more along the way,” Connor’s gaze lowered. “At least, that's what I've heard my dad say when tourists come to visit.” He relaxed into a small smile, shrugging his shoulders as he looked back at Markus. “Sorry if my words aren't much of a comfort.”

“I actually feel a lot better after talking with you. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Connor.” Markus smiled gently, grasping the sheriff’s hand once more as if to ground him before he took flight.

“And you, Markus,” Connor replied as he shook his hand. After removing his own hand, he placed the tool shed key in Markus’s palm, and his fingers lingered for just a moment, soft and warm on Markus’s skin. “I suppose we can complete the paperwork tomorrow once you've gotten settled in.”

Markus nodded, and anticipation began to bloom from inside him at the chance to see the sheriff again.

“Goodnight, Markus,” Connor waved with his polite, closed-off exterior returning.

“Goodnight, Connor.”

The sheriff disappeared into the night, and the farmer he left behind focused his attention to the key in his palm, ready to unlock his next step forward. Markus retreated into his humble cottage, humming along to the song that accompanied him on his journey here.

“Hold on just a little while longer...Everything will be alright.”

And for the first time in years, Markus truly believed it.


	2. Through the Eyes of a Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "As a child, Markus made the world his playground. From the bountiful fields on his grandfather’s farm to the cool concrete jungle of the city, Markus’s imagination grew wild. Like vines, Markus would grow and stretch toward the sky, rising with the sun each morning...
> 
> ...Sometimes, Markus swore he could still see the leaves of the trees and hear the calling of the birds. He swore he still felt something, a part of himself missing. The magic he once held still burned inside his heart. A piece of his soul was buried in the Valley, and it begged to be remembered. It cried out, “Don’t forget me. I’m still here…” Of all the loud thoughts in his mind, Markus never wanted to silence that one. That voice, however weak and wavering, couldn’t be silenced. It refused."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If we experienced life through the eyes of a child, everything would be magical and extraordinary. Let our curiosity, adventure and wonder of life never end." - Akiane Kramarik
> 
> 1/19/21 update: I've rewritten a few things in chapter 1 to accommodate for an idea I had while writing chapter 2 (god has cursed me for my hubris, and my work is never finished) but I'll summarize the main changes I've made here in case you already read chapter 1 before my update and don't want to read it over again <3  
> \- Markus worked his government job for six years, not three  
> \- Markus HAS been to Stardew Valley before, but that was back when he was a child  
> \- the other changes were just writing fixes, making things flow easier, etc
> 
> <3 enjoy chapter 2 yall

Waking up at 6 am was more of a comfort to Markus than sleeping in. Not only was the sunrise part of his routine for his entire life, but it allowed him a sense of purpose every morning. Sure, his purpose had changed drastically since returning to the Valley, but Markus was thankful for this one consistency that this change provided him. He could meditate in the morning’s glow and cease all of the guilty thoughts that told him he wasn’t doing enough. The quiet that the early hours of the morning brought were priceless, and now those hours belonged to him.

As a child, Markus made the world his playground. From the bountiful fields on his grandfather’s farm to the cool concrete jungle of the city, Markus’s imagination grew wild. Like vines, Markus would grow and stretch toward the sky, rising with the sun each morning. When Markus turned nine, his family abandoned the suburbs and their frequent trips to the valley in favor of urban life. It was closer to his father’s new job but so, so far away from Carl. To make up for his lack of freedom, Markus would climb to the highest place on the fire escape of his apartment building, racing with the sun to see who could reach the sky first. Every morning, he would look out at the horizon and try to imagine trees where the skyscrapers were and birds singing where cars honked. 

Over time, Markus’s perspective changed and the dream faded. He became an adult. No longer did he see trees or hear birds, and the sky was threatened by a growing somber grey. Sometimes, Markus swore he could still see the leaves of the trees and hear the calling of the birds. He swore he still felt something, a part of himself missing. The magic he once held still burned inside his heart. A piece of his soul was buried in the Valley, and it begged to be remembered. It cried out, “Don’t forget me. I’m still here…” Of all the loud thoughts in his mind, Markus never wanted to silence that one. That voice, however weak and wavering, couldn’t be silenced. It refused.

“Hold on just a little while longer,” he heard the voice say. Markus thought it was telling him to hold out -- for a miracle, for a sign, for  _ anything _ . Could it have been calling out to him, begging him to come home? 

_ Hold on to me just a little while longer _ ... _ I may be quiet, but I’m still here...Hold onto your fire just a little while longer...Come home, and everything will be alright. _

That voice lingered in his mind all morning. It burrowed in Markus’s brain and made a home there so long ago, so he should have been used to the voice. Somehow, it seemed louder since he returned to the Valley.

Usually, time would pass so quickly, and Markus stumbled, trying to catch up with life in the fast lane. He didn’t have a spare moment to acknowledge his racing thoughts while he juggled seven different tasks at once and needed to think about a dozen other things to accomplish later. His thoughts never stopped.  _ Reports. Coffee. Paperwork. Coffee _ . His hands would fidget relentlessly.  _ Push. Pull. Coffee. Proposals. Rejection. Coffee.  _ It never stopped. 

Until one day, it did. Markus resigned, and all the voices stopped shouting in his head; all but one. That quiet voice, the one he hadn’t heard in six years, spoke so clearly. That beautiful, soft voice came back, and it sounded like the singing birds. It sent chills down his spine. It sent him packing. It sent him  _ home _ .

-

As Markus’s hands worked to split logs and demolish rocks in the field, his head whirred and spun to catch up with all the tasks he had planned for the day. He'd made a decent start yesterday clearing debris by hand, but there still wasn't enough space free to plant the seeds he’d received. 

He’d woken up to find a small cardboard package just outside his door with a note attached. Scribbled in messy handwriting was a message from Mayor Hank on top of a package of parsnip seeds -- the perfect gift for a farmer just starting out. Beneath the seeds was a folder containing paperwork and legal forms to fill out. Markus grimaced at the sight of it. Sticking out of the folder was a blue post note and in precise handwriting, Connor wrote, “Sorry for forgetting to drop off your paperwork earlier. I promise it is very brief!” Underneath his note was a cute smiley face. There was something oddly familiar about the sheriff’s handwriting, like Markus could have sworn he’d seen it before. Markus dismissed the thought and smiled, imagining Connor doodling the smiley face with a stern, concentrated expression.  _ Or would he stick out his tongue while he drew? _ He suddenly didn't mind another stack of paperwork anymore. It made Markus’s soreness from the day before fade away, and that fluttering feeling flew into his heart again, reminding him of the ones he loved. 

-

  
  


Carl had always been an eccentric optimist, but that's why Markus loved him so much. His grandpa was the only one in his family who supported his wild fantasies and encouraged him to dream big. 

“ _ Be realistic, Markus _ ,” his parents would chide, and Carl would shoo them away. 

“ _ Don't listen to ‘em, Markus. Your imagination is the best thing you got, son, as well as that big heart of yours _ ,” Carl would point to Markus’s chest, “ _ and your big, stubborn head, too _ ,” he'd finish, ruffling Markus’s tight, kinky curls. 

When Markus told Carl of his plans to make big changes in the city, he could tell it pained his grandpa to see him go again, but he stayed supportive regardless. Markus wished his grandpa would have just told him it was a fool’s errand and saved him the trouble. His grandpa didn't have it in him though to crush Markus’s dreams, though. Still, Carl found a way to lead Markus out of the dark, and this flickering, promising light he gave Markus led him back to the Valley.

The day Markus left for the city, Carl wheeled himself in front of the door, blocking Markus’s path and holding up an envelope. Markus looked at it dumbfounded.

“Well don't just stare at it, Markus. Take it! It's for you,” Carl waved the envelope in Markus’s face. 

“What's this?” Markus asked, examining it in his hands. He read the envelope’s label aloud, “For my very special grandson. Open when it's time…” Markus returned his gaze to his grandpa with even more confusion. “Grandpa, what is this? I told you I don't need any money.”

Carl swatted his hands at the notion, “No, no, Markus it's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“My god, where’s your imagination gone, son? Or your patience? Not even a city boy yet, and you're already acting like one.”

“I'm sorry, Grandpa. Could you just tell me what it is or let me open it now? I gotta get to the station before my train leaves.”

“That quick to leave me behind?” Carl joked. “Alright, I’ll cut you some slack, just because I love ya.” The old man sighed and readjusted himself in his wheelchair, suddenly looking very somber and visibly aged as he met Markus’s eyes. He’d never seen his grandpa so serious before. “I want you to have this sealed envelope. No, no, don't open it yet...have patience. Now, listen close…”

Markus knelt before his grandpa and took his calloused hands in his own.

“There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burden of modern life,” Carl started, eyes growing distant, “and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness. When that happens, my boy,” he patted Markus’s cheek endearingly, “you'll be ready for this gift.”

Markus couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes as he hugged his grandpa. 

“I'll call you every day, Grandpa. Every week, if you still think that's too much,” Markus offered with a shy smile. 

“I'll look forward to hearing your voice, son. Now, go on. Go after that dream of yours, Markus, and make it your bitch!”

Markus laughed, “I love you, too, Grandpa.”

-

The fluttering in Markus's chest settled into a gentle hum as he looked over the cleared patches of field with pride. Boulders and branches still littered the pasture, but enough space was cleared for work to be done. The dry dirt and gravel parted under Markus’s command to reveal fertile soil. Parsnip seeds were already planted in the ground, ready to receive love and take root deep in Mother Earth’s embrace. 

Markus filled his watering can in the pond, and poured both water and his heart out into the tilled land, letting a small prayer fall from his lips. He prayed that the earth would accept him again even after all these years away in the city. He prayed for the earth’s forgiveness, knowing he’d forever be in her debt. Markus also prayed that he’d be able to forgive himself, too, for things he wished not to think about. His hands brushed over the soil to cover the seeds, and he let the moment’s silence wash over him and clear away his racing thoughts. It had been too long since he had sat in complete stillness, and Markus began to grow uncomfortably fidgety, needing something to do to quiet his mind. 

Markus stood and dusted the dirt off of his jeans then headed to the garden faucet on the side of the cottage to wash up. That faucet was the only source of tap water he had access to, so it functioned as his sink, shower, and drink fountain until he could get any house upgrades from North. 

Roughing it wasn't something he minded too much growing up. He used to love it, in fact. As a kid on camping trips with the family or on visits to Grandpa’s farm, Markus would brag about not bathing while he climbed trees and played in the mud. He was a wild child who eventually became tamed. He’d even gone backpacking before and managed to survive without luxuries then, but he had to admit he was a bit spoiled. Markus honestly missed using his bidet from back home and preferred it over the squat-hole he had to use in the outhouse behind the cottage. 

-

Somewhat satisfied with his cleanliness, Markus locked away his tools in the shed and strode into the town square in search of new folks to meet. The Pelican Town plaza was quaint and paved with worn cobblestone. There were a few incandescent street lamps and charming, little buildings in the square. Carl had included a map of the valley in his special envelope, but Markus could tell the map was outdated. Several buildings marked on the paper either were either transformed for new purposes or missing entirely from what Markus could see. As fun as it would be to investigate Pelican Town and play ‘find the difference’, Markus imagined he had better things to do with what remained of his day. Finding an updated map was added to Markus’s to-do list.

Markus approached the general store but caught his eye on a bulletin board posted just outside of the shop’s glass doors. A calendar was displayed, marked with important events such as the upcoming festivals and resident birthdays, and next to it hung an empty piece of parchment labeled, “Job Listings”. He only had 500 gold, and most of that was about to be spent on more seeds and farming supplies, so Markus figured it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye on the board for odd jobs and extra cash. 

As Markus was making a mental note to check on the board later, the glass doors swung open triggering a loud chime. A blonde woman who looked to be in her late twenties rushed out and bumped into Markus.

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed with a frantic, exasperated gasp. “I’m so sorry, mister, I wasn’t watching where I was going and-” the woman stopped rambling to look at who she’d run into. She gazed at Markus with her eyes fixed on him, unmoving. “Oh, hello! You must be that new farmer everyone’s talking about,” she beamed, blue eyes shining with recognition. “Markus, right? Connor told me about you! A new guy with two different colored eyes -- you certainly stand out,” the woman noted boldly before correcting, “Not that that’s a bad thing! It’s nice to meet new people.” He noticed her eyes were puffy, and her cheeks were flushed pink and wet from tears. _ What happened to her? _

Markus smiled patiently and watched as the woman collected herself, adjusting her blonde hair in its low ponytail, wiping her cheeks, and smoothing her dark blue sundress. Her big eyes remained fixed on his the entire time, and Markus silently wondered if she had blinked at all during their conversation.

“Sorry...It must be so obvious that I don’t meet new folks very often. Shall we start over?” she extended her tiny, pale hand which Markus accepted politely with a gentle shake. “I’m Chloe.”

“And I’m Markus, but you already knew that.” He wanted to make sure Chloe was safe, but decided it would be better not to pry in on personal matters on a first meeting. He settled on asking about her friend. “You close with Connor?” he asked, ignoring the way he suddenly felt warm. 

“I like to think so,” Chloe admitted thoughtfully. “He’s kinda quiet, but he’s helped me out of trouble often enough that I consider us friends. Or acquaintances at least.” Chloe rocked back and forth on her heels, and Markus noticed that she was barefoot. Before he could comment on it, she piped up, “Well, it was nice meeting you, Markus. I’ll see you around!”

Chloe scurried away wearing a tight-lipped smile on her face, and she took off up the steps heading north to the mountains. He hoped she would be alright. She had seemed friendly meeting Markus, and her sincerity reminded him of Connor. It made perfect sense that they would be friends. Markus tried to hide a smirk as he walked into the general store, remembering the sheriff’s laidback laughter from last night once he’d gotten comfortable around Markus. He still wondered what could have happened that made Chloe cry...

The glass door closed gently behind him, and the bell chimed once more. A ghoulishly pale man with ice blue eyes and a cold stare manned the counter. His expression was amused but distant and smug when Markus entered the store, almost like the man was studying him with scorn. He smiled at him. The corners of his lips curled unnaturally, not just because it was forced. The man hadn't even spoken, but Markus immediately got bad vibes from him.

Markus knew he had to meet everyone in town. It was a simple goal to achieve, really, in such a small place like Pelican Town. However, Markus made an effort to have as little dialogue with the shop owner as possible. Call it intuition or just overthinking, Markus had a feeling that man -- Elijah, he'd read on his nametag -- held onto dark thoughts, feelings, and secrets. Dark energy collected where he stood in that corner of the general store like traces of death and decay caught in a spider’s enticingly silken but sticky web. Markus didn't know whether this ‘Elijah’ would be the spider or fly, and he certainly didn't want to linger around long enough to find out. 

He could feel icy malice in his passive tone when the man addressed him. “So you’re Pelican Town’s newest resident... A city boy working puppet for the government just suddenly decides to become a humble farmer in our little, humdrum town?” The man scoffed. “Fascinating story, I'll admit. But don't expect me to believe a word of it.”

Markus swallowed and clenched his fists.

“Going to stand there sulking or come buy seeds like a good, little farmer?”

He didn't talk back. As tempting as it was, Markus didn't want to entangle himself in the shop owner’s web. He bought some seasonal seeds, made only necessary small talk, and left. 

-

Upon exiting the general store, Markus heard cheery voices giggling wildly from the other side of the plaza, just past the Stardrop Saloon. From his visits to the valley as a kid, Markus remembered the Saloon being one of his favorite places to hide, and the crates behind the building were still there after all these years. 

Markus would stifle a laugh with his hand as he hid from his parents who wanted to leave the boring, country-bumpkin town after no more than a single day of visiting with Carl. Grandpa always knew where Markus hid, but he’d play pretend along with him, claiming that forest spirits must have taken him to their hidden lair in the deep woods. It was funny how accurate Carl’s stories were to the truth that Markus experienced playing deep in the forest. Markus’s mother never found their charades funny, and Markus would hear her scold his father the entire drive back home about how childish and immature her father-in-law could be. He didn’t understand her insistence on keeping Markus in a suburban, sheltered life. He was just a child. Of course he valued playtime more than a future college education or the responsibility of upholding the Manfred legacy. Even as an adult, Markus couldn’t see from his mother’s point of view. Sure, Grandpa Carl hadn’t gone to college, and he lived a simple life, but he was a good man with a stable job. He was happy, too.

How many doctors, lawyers, or CEOs could say that they were truly happy? How could Markus have explained to his parents -- who were the epitome of an ever-unsatisfied, materialistic generation -- that no prestigious job or expensive degree would guarantee happiness? They didn't understand.  _ They didn't want to _ , Markus thought. 

“ _ Happiness comes from having a little and loving all of it, but folks would rather have a lot and hate it all, wanting more. Those folks are never happy _ ,” Carl would tell him.

Carl fought for Markus in a losing battle against his parents’ wishes. His parents begged and prayed for their son to get a college education, to make the family proud. He was a smart kid, their only kid. Of course it was up to Markus to be the first to go to college, the first to make it big, the first to succeed. Markus only wished he had gotten to decide for himself who he would be. Returning to the valley, the place where flowers and dreams could grow wild, Markus could finally choose.

-

The sound of children laughing grounded Markus in reality once more, and he couldn’t help but follow their happiness south of the square. Sitting on a park bench was a petite brunette woman in a denim button-up blouse and faded jeans. She sat in front of three children playing in the patch of grass at her feet. Her hands were clasped in her lap and she watched the kids with tired, attentive eyes. 

Markus approached delicately, but his broad shoulders cast a tall shadow over where the children played. He hoped his presence wouldn’t be intimidating, but one of the children -- a little girl with brown hair tied in a ponytail -- gasped and pointed at the shadow.

She grabbed a nearby twig and aimed the end of it towards Markus’s shadow, whispering, “Look! It’s a shadow monster. Be careful, he’s gonna eat you, Damien!”

“No, he in’t!” the little boy, Damien, replied with offense. “He gonna ruin the princess’s garden,” the toddler shouted, pointing to the dandelions growing beneath the bench where the woman sat.

“I’ll save you, Miss Princess!” the other little girl volunteered, rushing over to wrap the woman in a tight hug. Her dark, coily curls squished against the woman’s pixie cut. “We’ll protect your garden, Princess.”

The woman erupted into quiet laughter and she sighed, “Thank you, my brave knight.” She opened her free arm to the little boy and other girl, “And thank you, my wise vizier and kind mage!” The children clambered off the grass and into her embrace. The little boy fought to win his spot in the woman’s lap, sticking his tongue out at the two girls. 

“I know my shadow may seem frightening, but I promise I’m no monster,” Markus assured the children. “And I would never do anything to  _ Miss Princess _ ,” he gestured to the woman, smirking at the title. “Or her lovely garden,” he finished, settling on the grass beside the bench. She smiled radiantly back at him with an armful of children. 

“My name is Kara,” the woman introduced, “and this is Dana,” she leaned her head down on the little black girl to her left who still clung tightly to her shoulders. “This is her brother, Damien,” she said, smiling down at the toddler in her lap. Kara looked to her right at the suddenly shy, young girl who buried her face into Kara’s short, cropped hair. “And Alice, my mage with a heart of gold,” she concluded, eyes shining with pride.

“My name’s Markus,” he thought to offer his hand, but Kara was still held captive by the childrens’ loving, clingy embrace. He met the gaze of Dana, the most confident of the children, and addressed her first. “It’s an honor to meet such a brave knight like you,” Markus said with a half-bow to go along with their magical imaginative play.

Dana stepped back from Kara and bowed back with grace. “Miss Princess made me a knight this morning,” she explained, swinging her hands with excitement. “I asked if I could get shiny armor like a knight, too, but she don’t want us to go near the blacksmith shop no more,” Dana pouted.

Kara stiffened and was quick to change the subject. “So, you’re Markus?” she asked, pulling Dana closer again. “You must be the one who moved in yesterday.”

Noticing her shoulders becoming tense, Markus gladly changed the subject as well. “Yes, that’s me.” Markus looked over to Damien, “I think it’s very sweet that you wanted to protect Kara’s garden. Every flower deserves the chance to grow, even these,” he referred to the patch of dandelions. “I moved here to start a garden, too, of sorts.”

“Really?” Alice peeked out from Kara’s hair to ask. “What kinda garden?”

“Oh, I’ll bet Markus here will grow all kinds of wonderful things, Alice,” Kara said, reaching out a hand to smooth Alice’s hair. She whispered into the girl’s ear, “Why don’t you ask Markus about fairy roses?”

Alice’s eyes grew wide, and she nodded at Kara. “Umm, Mr. Markus? Do you think you’ll grow fairy roses?” she asked meekly. With an even quieter voice, she mumbled, “They’re my favorite…”

Markus replied, “Well, if they’re your favorite, then I suppose I will.”

Alice beamed back at Markus. Kara mouthed a thank you to him.

Dana piped up again, “Does that mean you’re a farmer, mister? Can you do plant magic? Do you know about the fairies?”

That pulled a chuckle out of Markus, and he raised his hands, playing as if he’d been caught. “A farmer never reveals his secrets,” he teased. He enjoyed the way Dana lit up at his response and how Alice gasped. Damien only tilted his head in confusion, but he seemed interested regardless.

As Kara got to her feet and secured her leather bag around her shoulder, Dana scooped up her younger brother and held him on her hip. She seemed to be around seven or eight years old but already very responsible for her age. Markus supposed that’s how it was to be an older sibling, but he wouldn’t know personally. 

The closest he had to a sibling was Leo, though he was technically Markus’s uncle since he was Grandpa Carl’s son. Leo was only a few years older than him, and they were practically raised together until Markus moved away with his parents. As a teen, he’d stay with Carl and Leo each summer, and they would pick up right where they left off, for better or worse. Naturally, they had a sibling-like bond and called each other brothers. It was just easier.

Damien fussed in his sister’s arms but calmed down when Alice came to Dana’s side and peered at him over her shoulder. Alice reached her hand out to stroke gently at Damien’s curls, soothing him. Markus heard Dana whisper, “No fair,” to Alice as her brother sleepily closed his eyes and nuzzled into his sister’s shoulder, ready for an afternoon nap. Dana quietly explained to Markus, “When I do that, he just gets madder. Alice really is a mage…”

Markus chuckled at that and absentmindedly wondered how Leo was doing wherever he was. He hadn’t heard from his brother in years, not since he graduated high school, so Markus worried for him. Markus vaguely remembered their last conversation being an argument. It was probably one revolving around Leo’s relapse affecting Carl’s health since those ‘discussions’ happened so often back then. Leo would dismiss his declining mental health, and Carl would insist that they talk about it. Talking would escalate into yelling, and Markus would either play peacekeeper or hide in his room until it had blown over. 

He struggled to recall earlier memories spent with Leo. Markus was optimistic to think that they must have shared positive moments together, but he also had to be realistic; Leo never seemed satisfied, even as a child. Carl’s wisdom worked wonders for Markus and his doubts, while they did nothing but anger Leo further. 

-

_ “You don’t get it, Dad! I’m not some stupid free spirit like you or Markus. I have actual shit to work through, and you’re supposed to be supporting me through it! I don’t need any more of your hippie bullshit advice. I don't wanna hear it anymore.” _

_ “Leo, you know I support you, but there’s only so much I can do. What more do you want me to do? I can’t keep spending money on therapist after therapist if you don’t even go!” _

_ “If you’d just fucking listen to me for once, you’d know why I’m not going. God! You treat me like Markus, but guess what, Dad. I’m not a fucking child!” _

_ “Well, you sure are acting like one. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior in this house, son.” _

_ “There you go again, still not listening to me! Why do I even fucking bother?” _

As loud as Markus would blast music from his earbuds, he’d still hear every bitter word spat out in anger and shudder every time his name was mentioned. Grandpa would try to comfort him afterward, tell him that it’s not his fault, but Markus couldn’t just dismiss the guilt he felt. Leo always compared himself to Markus in every argument he had with Carl, and Markus would be lying if he said it never got to him. He was so far from perfect. He wished his family could see that.

Being labeled ‘the good child’ meant you couldn’t make a single mistake without receiving a talk about how you were supposed to be setting an example. Markus wondered if that’s how every family was. Did nuclear families struggle to maintain a happy dynamic, too? What could even be considered ‘normal’ for a family?

-

Dana tugged on Markus’s sleeve with her free hand while the other supported the sleeping toddler. She looked up at him, confused.

“Hey, mister farmer. How come you look all sad?” Dana asked. “Is it ‘cause we gotta say goodbye? I don’t like goodbyes.”

Alice whispered back, “Me, too.”

Children and their incredible way of making even the most complex parts of adult life seem so simple...it was astounding. Was he just sad? For a moment, Markus wondered if that was the case. Emotions never seemed that complicated as a child, but now, he was utterly confused by them. There wasn't just one emotion to be felt at a time, and sometimes he wouldn't even know where they would come from or what exactly he felt. Disappointment, bitterness, resentment, guilt, fear, hope, and sadness all swirled inside his chest, and Markus couldn't place these feelings in neat, little boxes like a child could. To see through the eyes of a child was to be free of all preconceived notions, prejudice, and pessimistic thought. Maybe he wanted to feel that freedom again, and maybe he missed it like he missed the view from the top of the fire escape. Maybe he did wish to stay longer with the children. Maybe he was afraid to say goodbye.

Markus shook his head. “I’m not fond of goodbyes, either,” he trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 

“You know,” Kara began, “there’s a reason they’re called  _ good _ byes.” She rested her hands on the girls’ shoulders. “Afterall, if we didn’t have goodbyes, we wouldn’t have ‘hello’s.”

“What do you mean, Miss Kara?” Dana asked.

“Just because we say goodbye now doesn’t mean we won’t see each other again.” Kara looked to Markus and said, “I’m sure that our new friend, Markus, will have lots of stories to share with us when we meet again, but if we don’t say goodbye, he won’t get to work on his garden.” She held out her hands for Alice and Dana to take, “And if you girls don’t say goodbye, you won’t get to eat the nice, warm dinner waiting for you at home.”

Alice nodded at that while Dana huffed. Her mind obviously wasn’t set on food; it was set on adventure.

“And you won’t get to snuggle up in your nice, warm bed to read your favorite book, either. Don’t you want to know what happens next to the little witch?” Kara teased, rubbing Dana’s shoulder. The two girls gave in and said their goodbyes with minimal pouting.

“Have a good night, Kara,” Markus called out to her as she and the children walked west down Willow Street. “It was great meeting you and the kids.”

“You, too, Markus. Goodbye,” she replied, voice quiet in the distance.

The potato, cauliflower, and green bean seeds felt heavy in Markus’s pocket as he stood there alone in the darkness. A streetlamp nearby flickered faintly, but it didn’t provide enough light for Markus to find his way back home.

Testing the ground beneath him, Markus felt the hard cobblestone pavement with his shoes. A warm glow came from the porch light of the Stardrop Saloon, and Markus knew he must have been on the right track. Once he left the town plaza however, he would be on his own, left to fend for himself in the dark. Markus was only vaguely aware of the dirt path leading to his farm, so it would be a challenge. Not to mention that there might have been fallen logs or rocks in the way for him to stumble on. 

Markus sighed when he walked right smack into a fence post. Then, he heard a metallic jangling sound from behind him, and its steady rhythm echoed in the dark of the night. Spurs, he realized. He turned around to find the sheriff standing there stiffly, one hand fixed on the belt of his jeans and the other holding up a dim lantern.

“Howdy, cowboy,” Markus greeted with relief. 

Connor replied with a frown, “Are you going to call me that now?”

“Well, I can if you like the nickname,” he offered. “It’s late. What are you doing out here?”

“I should ask you the same,” Connor pointed out. “It’s not safe for you to wander around in the dark and get lost. Do you need me to walk you home, Markus?”

“Would I be a bother if I said yes?” he asked instead.

Connor shook his head and walked in front of Markus to lead the way. Putting his hands in his pockets, Markus followed and swayed in his steps nervously.

“You asked what I was doing out here so late. I was out doing my patrols before the day ended,” Connor answered, eyes fixed forward. “There’s not much to look out for in Stardew Valley, so there’s not much for me to do besides fetch cats out of trees or file standard reports.” His eyes met Markus’s, and he added, “You’re the opposite of a bother, Markus. I really don’t mind helping you. It’s nice to feel useful,” Connor admitted quietly.

Markus matched his tone and replied, “I know exactly how that feels. Funny, I...I thought it’d be different moving back here.”

“Different?” Connor asked, head tilting to the side.

“I, uh,” Markus began and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down, “I didn't always live in the city. My family lived just an hour’s drive from the Valley when I was a kid, but we used to visit my grandpa on this farm so much,” he sighed, looking back up at Connor, “it's like I grew up here.”

Connor opened and closed his mouth, as if he was about to say something but no words came out. Instead, he nodded hesitantly and indicated for Markus to continue.

“I thought that coming back to the Valley, it would all be the same, and I’d feel as carefree as I did as a child. But I guess I was wrong about that. I mean, we all gotta grow up sometime, right?”

“I don’t get it,” Connor confessed. Still holding the lantern in one hand, his free hand held a fist under his mouth and absentmindedly ran his thumb over his bottom lip. “You’re disappointed because you thought moving back here would be different, but you’re also disappointed that it’s not the same? And you said it was funny, too, but you seem to be upset instead..."

Markus laughed at how ridiculous it was. He admired the way Connor’s brain worked, and it opened up a whole new perspective to him. Wait. Perspective.

“No, no, you’re right, Connor. I wasn’t making much sense.” He laughed again, short and harsh. Connor took a step back, startled at the sound. “Sorry, I just now see how stupid I was being,” Markus apologized.

“You weren’t being stupid.”

“No, I just wasn’t thinking,” Markus corrected. “The last time I was here, I was 8 years old,” he scoffed. “You know, it’s been twenty years since I was last here,” he shook his head. “Of course it wouldn’t be like I remembered.” 

“Nostalgia is one hell of a drug,” Connor commented quietly to himself, and Markus snorted laughing. Connor smiled sheepishly, like he was embarrassed of what came out of his mouth.

Markus sighed out of his laughter, “Truer words have never been spoken, Connor. God, we gotta hang out more.” Markus’s eyes met Connor’s, and he spoke barely louder than a whisper, “You’re right, though…”

Connor was still looking at him, eyes dancing across Markus’s face, a small smile clinging to his soft lips. Out of the corner of his eye, Markus could see the sheriff observing him, analyzing him almost, but those eyes on him didn’t feel cold. Connor watched him with curiosity almost. Markus felt warm under his gaze.

“What was it like?” Connor asked in his smoky, soft voice. "When you were a kid," he clarified. Markus couldn’t help but look back at him, meeting his intense gaze. After a moment of just looking back at Connor, he realized he hadn’t said anything at all. Connor still smiled though and waited for him to answer.

He dropped eye contact to reminisce, “When we moved to the city, I would climb up the fire escape as high as I could go so I could look out at the world below me. I’d imagined that I climbed so high that I could see the Valley if I just tried hard enough. So I’d pretend there were trees instead of buildings, grass instead of concrete. I would do that every morning, dreaming of the day I’d get to go back. Guess I was expecting to return to that same daydream when I moved back,” he mused.

The lantern in Connor’s hand swayed as he spoke, suddenly louder, “Have you ever seen the view of the Valley from the mountaintop?”

Markus shook his head, though he couldn’t remember if he had.

“It is beautiful from up there! I think you would like it," he said, lantern swaying even more, in time with the sudden, excited energy in his voice. "I’ll have to take you there someday,” Connor said, “if that’s something you’d like to do. Maybe there, you’ll find what you’re looking for,” he added, then his relaxed face scrunched up again. His brows pulled together, and he frowned. “Yesterday, you implied that you came to the Valley looking for something. What is it that you’re trying to find?”

“Honestly?” Markus asked rhetorically, though he wasn’t surprised when Connor nodded his head earnestly with his brown, doe eyes wide. He looked back at Connor, ready to disappoint him by saying that there was no real answer, but he couldn’t lie. Something about the puppy-like curiosity in Connor’s gaze or the deliberate, kind way he spoke compelled Markus to trust him. 

“I’m not sure what I’m looking for, actually. I think it’s something to do with my past? Something in my heart trying to call me back to the Valley. Like a part of me got left here so long ago, and I won’t feel complete without finding it. That sounded stupid,” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just chasing after the memories I made here when I was a kid. Sorry. I wish I had a better answer to give you,” Markus finished.

When Markus looked back at Connor to gauge his reaction, he saw the lantern’s light reflecting in wistful, brown eyes. He was still frowning. Markus wanted to make sure that nothing he said upset Connor, but his heart felt drained of all emotion and mind emptied of all words. Connor didn’t seem to mind the silence, so he kept walking alongside the sheriff, listening to his spurs jingle-jangling, and keeping all thoughts and worries to himself.

The two reached the fence of Manfred Farm near 11 o’clock, but neither took the initiative to push open the gate because that would mean goodbye. Goodbye didn’t have to mean forever. Markus knew that. However, logic didn’t soothe the pain he felt or silence his doubts swirling in his head. He wanted the sheriff to stay longer, but he let him go. They said their goodbyes, and hopefully tomorrow, they would get to say hello.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me, fellow gamers, but i haven't gotten to play the new stardew valley 1.5 update. i don't even have the ability to play sdv right now since my laptop is a craptop, and it's barely running enough for my school work. i'm going off of what i remember from stardew valley and including my own interpretation/additions to the valley. anyway, thanks hens <3
> 
> if you're familiar with stardew valley, i'd love to know who y'all think is the best spouse! my top 3 are leah, haley, and krobus <3


	3. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Words and hearts should be handled with care for words when spoken and hearts when broken are the hardest things to repair." - unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for being patient with me and waiting for this beast of a chapter to get posted. i'm having to settle some stuff with my living situation because i'm in a really bad place rn :(
> 
> i hope y'all will forgive me for the almost month long break  
> EDIT: this chapter was originally 10k words long, so for accessibility and easier reading, i split the chapter into two <3

Markus woke to a migraine, a few things missing from his pockets, and less than half the energy he had the day previous. Of all things, he was most surprised to have woken up in his own bed. In the dead of night, he had tilled soil and planted seeds before collapsing into the dirt from exhaustion, thinking  _ just five more minutes. _

The sun shone blindingly bright through the cottage window, and Markus groaned as he rolled over in bed to hide his face in his pillow. No doubt he was getting grime all over the bedsheets, but that was the beauty of beds in the morning -- no matter how uncomfortable it was in the evening and difficult to fall asleep, a bed in the morning was as soft as a cloud and  _ just five more minutes _ was more tantalizing than all the fruit of Eden.

Despite fighting exhaustion until 2 am last night, Markus hadn’t gotten much done. He had planned on clearing more land for more seeds to be bought the next day and more preparation to be made. Staying up that late, especially after another encounter with the sheriff, Markus was distracted.

His mind wandered from the task at hand to thoughts of the sheriff’s large but gentle hands, soft in his grip from their initial meeting. While raking the soil, he thought about running his fingers through Connor’s dark brown curls. Those tempting, distracting thoughts kept Markus from his goal, and they made him lose track of time. No wonder he didn’t get shit done.

The day wouldn’t allow for simple pleasures or procrastination. No matter how tempting it was to find that sheriff again or meet new folks and learn their stories, those stories had to be closed and shelved until Markus could accomplish what he came here to do: make something of himself and make something of the land.

It was back to the grind. Back to that old, familiar and relentless pace he knew so well.

-

_ “ Take it easy, Grandpa _ ,” Markus cautioned with placating, shaking hands. _“_ _ Doctor said for you to take it nice and slow. _ ”

Markus helped the old man to sit up in bed by steadying his body, thin and frail from loss of muscle mass. He used gentle coaxing touches, afraid his grandfather would break from any sudden movements.

_ “ As if you even know what ‘slow’ means, _ ” Carl chuckled with a cough. His throat was dry from another night spent in the cold hospital. He needed to fix that.

_ “ Need some tea, Grandpa? _ _”_ Markus asked, ignoring Carl’s comment. 

He fetched a warm blanket from the bin next to the bed and spread it over the old man. Then, he adjusted the man’s IV, making sure it didn’t bend uncomfortably or get caught under the covers. Markus ignored the way Carl sighed as he fussed over the bed rails and fluffed the pillows. It must have been quite dull to be confined to a bed with only blank walls to stare at. That was something he could fix. As Markus searched for the room’s TV remote, Carl grimaced and coughed again. Markus’s brows furrowed with worry.

_ “ Even if I say ‘no’, you're gonna make me some anyway, _ _”_ Carl smiled, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He was right. He always was. Still, he needed to fix that.

_ “ Okay, don't go anywhere, alright? I'll be right back with some throat coat tea. ” _

_ “ Sure, Markus, ”  _ Carl teased. _ “ Tell the paralyzed man not to go anywhere, and hurry back before he escapes! You waste even a second, Markus, and he’ll be wreaking havoc in the hall. You'll find him mowing down the nurses with his wheelchair if you're gone too long. ” _

_ “ Ha, ha. You should become a comedian, Grandpa. You'd be a real hit, _ _”_ Markus replied as he opened the door. It was an easy comment to make, and Carl had gotten comfortable enough with his car accident injury to welcome the joke anyway. 

_ “ Ouch! Who knew my sensitive little boy could be so cruel?” _ Carl put a hand to his heart and dramatically turned his head to the side, faking offense before breaking into another breathy, hoarse laugh. He noticed Markus’s frown and reassured him. _“_ _ Ah, I’m fine, son. You really know how to make this old man smile, even through his pain. ” _

Markus’s eyes widened. _“_ _ Pain? _ _”_ He needed to fix that. _“_ _ Do you need me to go get one of the nurses for you? They can increase the drip in the IV, so you can get the medicine faster, _ _”_ he rambled, hands shaking even more.

_ “ No, Markus. I’m fine. ” _

_ “ Or do you need me to distract you? _ _”_ Markus piped up, shaking hands searching. At last, _“_ _ I found the remote. I can put on a show for you. Bob Ross, anything you want. I can also go by the house and get your travel paints, too, or I can just stay with you longer and talk? ” _

_ “ Slow down, Markus… ” _

_ “ Shit, but I said I’d get your tea first! Okay, wait here, and I’ll go get some for you, then I can- ” _

_ “ Enough, Markus! _ _”_ Carl raised his voice, making Markus cower. He’d heard that loud, grating yell before but never directed at him. The words stung, and it wasn’t something he could fix. Carl waved his hand, dismissing the way his voice broke the gentle, quiet air of the room. His eyes fell down to his lap and he coughed out, _“_ _ Markus, you know I didn’t want to yell, but sometimes you just don’t listen. You don’t need to hover over me, son. I’m old , _ _”_ Carl sighed, _“_ _ and eventually I’m gonna break, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t fix that, Markus. ” _

Markus felt something wet slide down his cheek, and something cold settled in his chest. He suddenly became hyper aware of the pouring rain outside. It crashed and pounded and clattered against the roof of the hospital, and it cried down the glass of the windows. He wished there was a door to close, headphones to shove on, a blanket to hide under, anything. Of all things, he wished Leo was here.

_ “ I’m sorry, Markus. Just go. ” _

_ “ Okay,” _ Markus swallowed, tasting saline. _ “ D-do you still want some tea, Carl? ” _

Carl stared, and after a moment, he slowly nodded. He didn’t meet Markus’s eyes.

_ “ I’ll be back, then, ”  _ he muttered quietly. _ “ I’ll get your tea, then I’ll let you be. ” _

The pouring rain pelted Markus like bullets when he left the hospital. He never liked the rain.

-

The splintered wood on the handle of Markus’s tools dug into his skin painfully. He didn’t stop to sand it or adjust his work gloves. He held on tighter with a grimace and held on just a little while longer.

After wiping sweat from his brow, Markus strode into town to find Pelican Town’s fisherman down by the docks. He’d received a letter from the man requesting his presence. Markus didn’t think much of it, but decided it was a priority when the fisherman, Willy, mentioned his grandfather’s name in scraggly writing.

A gruff man with dark skin and weathered clothes stood at the end of the pier, slowly pulling a cigar out from between his teeth as he gazed out at the rippling waters of the Gem Sea. The fisherman reminded Markus of his grandpa in the way his wrinkled hands settled in the pockets of his jeans and tattoos running up his arms, slightly hidden by rolled up sleeves. Markus grimaced and approached quickly. He had no time to take part in dramatic shenanigans with the fisherman, and he certainly had no tolerance for the thick cloud of smoke trailing behind him. He cleared his throat impatiently.

“You’re Willy?” Markus asked loudly.

A smile full of yellowing teeth flashed at him when the fisherman turned around. “Aye, that I am.” Willy snuffed out the cigar on one of the dock’s posts and gestured for Markus to join him in his seaside shack. Markus resisted the temptation to roll his eyes as he followed Willy inside.

From behind the fisherman’s cabinet, Willy pulled out an old, bamboo fishing pole and dusted it off with his calloused fingers.

“Used to be your old man’s, this rod here. He had a better one, I’m sure, but he probably took that one with him to Zuzu City when he left. Or sold it, heh,” Willy forced a laugh. “Anyway...This one got left here, and look,” he pointed to the end of the pole, “still engraved with the family name.”

Markus silently ran his fingers along the carved out letters that spelled ‘Manfred’.

“I got no use for this, but maybe Carl woulda wanted you to have this…”

“He's not dead,” Markus stated coldly. 

Willy was taken aback. “No, no, I didn't mean to...ah, never mind. What I'm saying is, this here fishin’ rod is yours now.” He handed over the bamboo pole and placed a calloused hand on Markus’s shoulder. “There's some good catches to be made in the Valley, lad. Aye, them waters’s as rich in magic as the soil is in minerals. It’s there, somewhere. Ye just got to find it.”

“Um, yes, thank you, Willy,” Markus managed. He held his tongue, not wanting to let his bitter mood come out in rudeness. “Sorry for snapping at you.”

“You’re alright, lad. Seems to be a touchy subject for ya. Won't bring it up again,” Willy promised. “Now don't just stand there gawkin’ at me like a seagull, lad. Go try ‘n’ catch somethin’!”

The afternoon sun hung over Markus’s head as he walked along the docks, looking for a spot to fish. Most of his money had been spent on seeds, and those were already sown. A few fish would put gold back in his pockets to invest on the farm. Markus didn’t want another unproductive day to go by, and he certainly didn’t view fishing as a leisurely activity. He ’d be upholding his promise of working today rather than playing. He smiled, satisfied with his new plan.

-

Markus never considered patience one of his virtues, so naturally he’d never been successful with fishing before. He recalled that the last time he tried to fish was with Carl -- a bittersweet memory. Bored from all the silent waiting, Markus ended up eating all of the canned corn that was supposed to be used for bait. Carl laughed while scolding Markus, so he didn't think much of the incident as a kid. Looking back on it now, Markus couldn’t help but feel guilty. He’d been scolded back then for his selfishness and resistance to sitting still, and he never listened or heeded the guidance he had received. His impatience worsened when he got accustomed to city life, working 9 to 5, honking at the too-slow traffic, wishing he had more time. Now, Markus had all the time in the world all to himself with little plan of what to do with it. Patience allowed for time to pass however quickly or slowly as the mind needed, but he didn’t hold that power. What Markus lacked in patience, he made up for in work ethic and perseverance.

The bamboo pole tugged, and Markus swiftly put his shaking hands to work. Salty water splashed and bubbled as the bobber danced in the water. Markus wrestled with the pole until his fight was won and rewarded him with…

“A sardine?” Markus sighed.  _ Well, it was better than nothing. _

He was soon proven wrong when he fished out heaps of trash, broken CDs, and driftwood. The fact that the Gem Sea, known for its glimmering, crystal-clear water, was so full of heaps of trash made Markus feel sick. He didn't remember the water being so dirty when he was a kid. Something had changed. 

Markus disposed of the garbage in the trash can next to the mayor’s house, shuddering at the soggy, wet texture that left his hands. It slid into the can with a loud thwap, and Markus was certain there was more where that came from. He packed up his gear and made his way north past the saloon, following the eastern river. 

Markus managed to catch a few more fish and pieces of trash as he walked towards the mountain lake. Dandelions, wild horseradish, and leeks grew alongside the path, and Markus made room for them in his backpack, remembering how useful foraging could be from his days in the Valley as a kid. 

He would pick wild berries from the bushes in the Cindersap Forest and help Carl bake pies out of the ones he hadn’t already eaten. Markus recalled leaving out his berry basket deep in the woods for his forest friends to snack on. He liked to imagine that rabbits, deer, and bears he’d see on hikes or hiding in the shrubs would come out to enjoy the feast he provided; and he loved coming back to his special spot in the woods to find the basket empty. On the best days, Markus would find a small handwritten note inside the basket thanking him. He must have lost the notes he collected, or maybe he’d just imagined them. He had no proof they existed at all other than in his childhood memories, and Markus knew his ability to recall the past was unreliable. 

There were so many gaps in his memory from childhood, especially from his time in school. Markus knew that his past was hazy just because his brain wanted to protect him from the bad things he experienced, but sometimes he just wished he could understand. What good was it to forget your past if it still haunted you in ways you couldn’t heal?

-

Markus reached the mountain lake and found a lone figure standing beneath a cedar tree, peacefully looking out across the lake. The man had long, silvery white hair and a scruffy beard like Hank, but this man was much shorter and thinner. His beard was much longer, and he wore a long, yellowing cotton shawl that appeared to be homemade and covered in leaves. When Markus approached closer, he noticed that the leaves on his shawl were a mixture of natural leaves that clung to the cotton and decorative ones that were embroidered to the material with care. 

“Oh, uh, hello,” the man greeted cautiously. “Don’t mind me. I just live up here alone.”

Markus noticed the man was carrying a small basket, foraging. He had found plenty just on his little walk, so he offered the man one of the extra horseradish he’d gathered.

“For me?” the man asked incredulously. He took the gift and placed it in his basket. “Thank you very much. The Valley provides bountiful foraging, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “My name is Markus, by the way. What's yours?”

“Linus. Well, thank you again. I won't keep you from fishing,” the man waved goodbye and retreated farther north to the mountains. 

The water of the mountain lake rippled in the breeze, and droplets of water flew in the wind to land on his flannel shirt. His buzzed hair felt tickled by the breeze, and Markus half-wished his hair was long again. It’d been cut so short to follow his previous job’s policy on “work appropriate” natural hair -- another freedom he’d given up in the hope of fixing the world’s problems. Despite all the things he’d been willing to compromise on for his job, Markus realized he felt none of it was worth it.

Tired from the day’s work and lack of rest, Markus felt called to his bed like a sailor called to the depths of the sea by a siren’s song. His energy was too low again, and he dragged his bamboo rod through the dirt along the northern trail past the carpenter’s cabin, heading down to the farm. He’d finish chores before calling it an early night. 

Around 7 o’clock, Markus heard the faint jingling of spurs and smiled when he caught the sheriff staring at him as he finished watering crops. The sheriff didn’t appear embarrassed however. Connor continued to stare, holding his gaze with intense eyes and furrowed brows. He noticed clouds of doubt appearing in Connor’s eyes, covering up the usual gleam his eyes held when he was excited or content. His brown eyes bore into him expectantly as if waiting for some kind of answer or explanation. For what, though, Markus had no clue. 

“Is something wrong, Sheriff?”

Connor pouted and twisted his lips, suddenly dropping eye contact and clasping his hands in front of himself. Silence settled between them like a slow, rolling fog, making anything and everything familiar fade and become unclear. The evening’s breeze wasn’t cold so when Connor rubbed his pale hands together meticulously, Markus knew it wasn’t to keep warm.

Before Markus could break the silence himself, Connor spoke, low and formally, “Have you finished filing the paperwork?”

Markus nodded and wordlessly slipped into the cottage to grab the folder from the wooden table. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment and guilt course through him when Connor accepted the folder quickly, rigidly. Connor nodded and stood there stiffly, eyes fixed on the folder in his hands. Markus watched in silence as the sheriff’s face scrunched up again with doubt.

“I...I was wondering,” Connor started. “Well, I wonder about many things, but,” he muttered, trailing off and shaking his head. Whatever train of thought Connor began, it veered off course. Connor huffed, “Nevermind. I'm sorry, forget I said anything.”

“Wait!”

Markus reached out to grab at Connor’s wrist as he turned to leave, and Connor whipped his hand away defensively and recoiled as if he'd been burned. Connor’s expression was stern, almost empty, but his brown eyes held fire, pain, and a glimmer of fear. Markus quickly let go and apologized, and his heart sank noticing the way Connor held his wrist and lowered his eyes, clenching his jaw.

“No, no,” Connor dismissed, “I’m okay, I apologize. I just... _ overreacted _ ,” he winced using the word. His tone was guarded, and his words sounded practiced. “I'm sorry,” he apologized again, turning his back to Markus.

Despite Connor’s reaction, he made no motion to leave. It was still early in the evening, and the lowering sun lit up the farm with a pink glow. The light caught on Connor’s brown curls showing coppery tones that stood out against the darker sections of his carefully gelled back hair.

Connor turned back around to face Markus, catching him staring. The sheriff offered a sad smile and flicked his fingers between the pages of the folder.

“I hope I didn't scare you, Markus. Sometimes my reflexes will kick in,” Connor quickly added, eyes glancing off to his left. The formal, polite inflection in his voice returned, and his softness closed off. “I'm sorry for that.”

Markus absentmindedly wondered what the sheriff might be like in action. He surely had rigorous training and the work ethic to earn his title; and while Connor mentioned his job wasn't always thrilling, he had to admit the thought of Connor apprehending someone was... _ intriguing _ , to say the least. Markus mused before dismissing the inappropriate thought.

“Still, I shouldn’t have just tried to grab you like that. That was my bad, and I’m sorry,” he admitted. “But seriously though, I would’ve deserved any punch you’d thrown,” Markus quipped, hoping he’d make Connor smile.

Connor tilted his head with an amused yet puzzled expression on his face. “It certainly was unexpected, but I don’t think that would call for me to punch you. And though I don’t know you well, I’m sure you wouldn’t deserve that.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Markus breathed a laugh. “Though I will say it must be cool to see the Valley sheriff serve some justice.”

Connor squinted at Markus and hesitantly replied, “I’ll...keep that in mind, then.” The sheriff walked back along the stepping stone path and paused to rest his arm on the shipping bin, pursing his lips.

“Forget something, sheriff?” Markus asked, only partially teasing.

“No,” Connor replied, almost offended at the notion.

“Weren’t you gonna say something earlier?”

“Yes,” Connor admitted, “but I didn’t forget anything. I actually meant to ask you something but wasn’t sure it would be appropriate, so I chose not to bring it up.” He resumed fidgeting with the folder in his hands, and his posture sank. His eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

“You can ask me anything, Connor,” Markus said warmly.

“Oh…” Connor froze. “Would that include asking a personal question? I’d thought it to be inappropriate because I don’t know you well…” he trailed off.

“Ask away, Connor,” Markus replied, breathing a soft laugh. “I’m an open book.”

Connor squinted again like he was analyzing Markus, trying to tell if he was teasing again. His posture straightened, and he met Markus’s eyes with a stern expression, though Markus could swear he saw hurt reflecting in Connor’s copper-brown eyes. He broke eye contact, gaze lowering, and he took a breath.

“Did you really mean what you said? About moving to the Valley to get away from the city, to become a farmer? To...to find what you’re looking for?”

Markus opened and closed his mouth dumbly. He considered the question for a moment and answered, “Yes, I think so. I think there are probably more reasons than that that I haven’t figured out yet, but that’s what my heart’s telling me.” Connor nodded, but his concerned expression didn’t falter. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Connor quickly replied.

“Really? No reason at all?” Markus pried.

Connor scoffed. “I have to admit that I’m still unsure of your intentions, Markus.” Connor’s eyes were cold, voice formal and distant again. “It’s my duty to protect my home, to try to save what still remains of it. I’m just doing my job,” he concluded, uncertain.

Markus’s heart sank. “I’ll try not to get in your way, then, Sheriff.”

“I’m sorry for asking. It wasn’t my intention to bother you.”

“You didn’t.”

Connor met his eyes briefly, and for less than a second, his cold eyes were warm. There was a sadness behind them that made Markus empathize, a loneliness that he wanted to fix.

“Have a good night, Markus.”

But Markus knew he couldn’t fix everything. He felt too broken.

Markus watched as Connor left his farm, the tinkling sound of his spurs growing faint in the distance. In a blink, the sheriff was gone, and Markus’s weariness felt heavier than ever. That cold feeling settled in his chest again, and he swore he felt the air thicken before him, swirling and condensing in the sky to weep onto the earth.

Markus laid his head on his pillow and waited for the quiet escape of sleep to take him away from the worries he had and the wounds he couldn’t heal. Markus waited and shifted restlessly, replaying the day’s events in his mind. He waited and clutched tightly at his pillow, hugging it to his chest to make the cold feeling go away. Sleep eventually came to smooth his furrowed brow, run its hands in circles across Markus’s back, and whisper that everything was going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <3
> 
> btw y'all i got my stardew valley on steam working again!! i have a farm with two other people, and together we're the dbh main trio. i've got some cute screenshots of connor, markus, and kara enjoying life in the valley, so please let me know if you'd like me to share those! i'm also hoping to get my art tablet working again, so i can draw out the map of the valley (since i'm adding and changing stuff, sorry eric barone/concernedape)
> 
> also, i've got an rk1k au collaborative project in the works that i'm very excited about :>
> 
> holler at me in the comments! no seriously though please do. i love talking with y'all on there <3
> 
> let me know if any of you found the obscure jenna marbles reference in this chapter!  
> i got a prompt for y'all if you don't know what to say: considering that connor is an NPC in stardew valley, what do you think his likes and dislikes would be?


	4. Things Are Not What They Seem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Not much was left in this little town. Not much could be saved.
> 
> It was a bittersweet reality for Markus to face. More bitter than sweet, he mused."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art; to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul." -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
> 
> EDIT: this is part two of the original third chapter. the og chapter was over 10k words long, so for easier reading and accessibility, i split it in two
> 
> <3 enjoy

Caked in mud and drenched in rain and blood, Markus shivered and gasped for air. He ran, not knowing what from or where to, but adrenaline rushed through him nonetheless. Everything was amplified by fear. A blinding flash struck down, and Markus tripped over his own feet. He fell gracelessly and endlessly into an inky, black void. It was so cold. The terrifying chill was amplified by his wet cheeks and blood-caked body. He fell for what felt like an eternity, weightless, floating as he faded into the nothing that surrounded him. He couldn’t hear the sound of his own uneven breath or the sound of the rain. It was almost peaceful. 

Until it wasn’t.

A cacophony of roaring thunder and rain pounding on the creaky wooden roof of the cottage jolted Markus awake with a shout. His bedsheets were tangled around his legs, damp with cold sweat, and his hands shook. Anxiety made his skin buzz with trepidation, and he couldn’t remedy that by lying back down, hoping sleep would drown everything out soon enough. 

Markus pried himself from the mess of his bed and fetched the wash bin to clean his sheets. Fortunately the fireplace still housed dry logs, and the lighter Markus packed still worked enough to spark warmth in the little cottage. 

Rain was supposed to be lucky for a farmer, but all Markus felt was dread. He swore it wasn’t just because he hated the rain. His concern wasn’t misplaced according to the oracle channel on the old television. The oracle warned that the spirits, whoever they meant, would make an effort to fill his day with misfortune. 

At least he didn’t have to expend energy watering the field. Markus was grateful for that. There were plenty of silver linings, plenty of things to be grateful for, he decided. He had an education, clothes on his back, a bed, a roof over his head...

Something wet landed on Markus’s head. He looked up and a fat raindrop fell onto his face from a darkened crack in the ceiling. Then another. And another. Water began to drizzle from the crack in the roof. Sighing, he pulled out a bucket from the broom closet and positioned it on the floor to catch the drip.

Yes, Markus thought, he was still grateful for the roof over his head, even if it leaked. And smelled, he noticed.

Markus looked back up at the ceiling to inspect the damage and sourced the stench to wood rot. The oak panels that made up the ceiling were warped from the pressure of something heavy above it, and Markus reasoned that heavy something must have been worsening the leak. Maybe a fallen branch from a tree. He backed away cautiously, worried that even his presence would make the damage worse somehow.

After slipping on a raincoat over his favorite denim jacket, Markus rushed out of the cottage and followed the northern trail that led to the carpenter’s shop.

-

The wooden door of the cabin opened swiftly without any creaking or whines unlike Markus’s door had. North stood behind a front desk of sorts, leaning over and sketching plans in a notebook when Markus came in. She looked up and smirked as she watched Markus wiping his once-white shoes on the doormat.

“No matter how much you wipe those shoes on my mat, they’re not gonna be white again, you know,” North commented, attention returning to her sketch. She muttered something under her breath, probably another judgmental remark, Markus figured.

“Well, this place sure is cozy,” Markus’s eyes wandered the warm interior of North’s cabin.

The main foyer was crafted of log, and detailed wooden beams decorated the ceiling of the room. White pillars supported the structure in each of the corners of the room, and a charming, olive-colored rug was spread out across the polished wooden floor. Markus could see that the entrance led to a hallway on the right that connected to a workshop room of sorts with tiled concrete flooring and tools scattered about.

North finished her sketch and placed both hands on the counter, pressing all of her weight into her palms. Markus realized she was flexing again, and he breathed a short laugh.

“Is that a habit of yours or what?” Markus teased, gesturing to North’s posture. She chuckled then shrugged and waved him over to approach the desk.

“Came here to cry to me already? Were you suffering enough in that shit-shack?” North chuckled. “I don’t mean to be rude, but your gramps really shoulda taken better care of that place before he...you know.”

“Before he moved, you mean?” Markus huffed. He was getting tired of everyone’s assumption that Carl ‘went to a better place’ up in the clouds when really he was just ‘in a better place’ an hour away. “Anyway, uh, yeah,” Markus admitted. “The roof’s got a leak, and I think some mold or something?”

“Psh, I can fix that easy,” North bragged. “Want me to expand the old place, too? I also noticed the cottage doesn’t have proper plumbing, so I could work out some plans to fix that.”

“Yes,” Markus sighed in relief. “An actual toilet and a sink sound so, so wonderful honestly.” He noticed North flip to a new page in her sketch book and start jotting down notes as he talked. “Wait, how much would that be?”

North tucked her pencil behind her ear and showed him the notebook’s page of diagrams and numbers. “I’d have to get a better look at the house to see what I can do, but I’ve got most of the basic parts here already. The roof’ll probably cost between 150 to 300 gold, depending on the damage, but if you can help me gather the wood for it, I’ll do the job cheaper,” she said with a wink.

The diagrams in the sketch looked far more elaborate than anything Markus was planning and even if he didn’t know a thing about plumbing systems, he knew her plans were much bigger from the details.

“And what is that?” Markus raised an eyebrow.

“The plans for an expanded bedroom!” North piped up with a mischievous grin. “A bigger space should allow for a better bed, better sleep hygiene and all that. Bigger bed, too for...you know, better rest.”

“What? I mean, thank you, I guess? But why do you assume I need help with sleep?”

“Please,” North scoffed. “Those bags under your eyes are not Gucci. Plus, a little birdie told me that a certain farmer is way too sleep-deprived for any fun,” she teased with a grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean? And where'd you hear that from?”

North stared at him, studying Markus’s confused expression. Her eyes widened. “Wait, did he not actually ask you?”

Markus huffed, “Did who not ask me what?”

“Fuck,” North sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Forget I said anything. And just. Try to take better care of yourself, ‘kay?”

The cabin door quietly opened, and it would have gone unnoticed if not for the loud stomp of boots on the doormat. A redheaded woman that looked nearly identical to North entered, holding something beneath her coat to protect it from the rain. Her hair was braided similar to how North’s was but parted on the opposite side. 

North lit up, “Hey, Leah! I thought you weren't stopping by till later.”

Carrying a large scrapbook under her arm, the woman, Leah, shook off her coat and walked over to greet them.

“Oh, well you know me. I got struck with inspiration and had to start working on this. I couldn't wait to show you what I've got so far,” Leah passed the scrapbook over to North from across the counter. “It's mostly blank, but I got a good headstart on it so we can put stuff in before the baby comes.”

North flipped open the scrapbook to the first page and gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. Markus wanted to catch a glimpse but didn't want to intrude, so he took a step back to allow the two women to catch up.

“Hey, where do you think you're goin?” North called out to Markus. “Come back over here and meet my sister,” she said, gesturing to Leah with her elbow. 

“I'm Leah,” the woman introduced with a wide smile. “You're Markus, that new farmer everyone’s been gossiping about, huh?” He nodded, and Leah leaned in to study Markus’s face. “Woah, I gotta paint you some time! I've never met anyone with two different colored eyes before. You'd make a great subject for my next color study!”

“Ha, yeah, that'd be cool. You paint, too?” Markus asked, shaking her hand.

“Yeah! I also do some sculpture work.” Leah looked over at her sister with a smirk, bumping shoulders with her. “Guess artistry runs in the family, huh?”

“And in the Valley, too,” North added.

“How do you mean?” Markus asked.

North chuckled and crossed her arms, explaining, “I swear everyone who lives here is artsy in some kinda way. Literally, in both yours and my sister’s cases.”

“I can’t blame anyone else who moves here for that reason. The Valley is the best source of inspiration, just what every artist needs.” Leah turned to Markus. “That's why you moved to Pelican Town, right?”

Markus laughed, “Well, that and other things. A fresh start, for one. What? Is it so hard to believe that maybe I’ve always wanted to be a farmer?”

“Mm hmm,” North hummed, unconvinced. “So farmer boy, you need my help with anything else? I can get to fixin’ that roof this afternoon.” She handed Markus a receipt that listed the cost and materials required for the roofing and plumbing.

He accepted the paper with his eyebrows raised. “Wait, I haven't paid for anything yet…”

“I trust you'll pay once you're able to, Markus. Besides, I know where you live,” North poked his chest with her finger threateningly, laughing at how Markus’s eyes widened in shock.

Leah covered her mouth to hide her laugh, and Markus raised his hands in submission, smirking.

“Yes, ma’am,” Markus promised. “Wait...There actually is something you could help me with though.” He dug out the old, worn map of Stardew Valley that was folded in the back pocket of his jeans and handed it over to North. “My grandfather gave me this map of the Valley, but I think it's outdated.”

North squinted her eyes and examined the map. Leah peered over to get a glimpse, too, and both of their faces scrunched up in concentration and...disappointment?

“Yeah, this map is super outdated,” North said. She pointed at several locations on the map, naming places that had changed or businesses that had closed. “Oh, wow. The mines were still open here with the old miner’s cottages to the east of it and everything. Shit, that’s where the old boutique shop was before the owner skipped town. And the schoolhouse is still on here.”

“And there’s the community center, look,” Leah pointed out with a sad smile. She leaned her head down on her sister’s shoulder. “This just reminds me how much I missed how things used to be. Things sure have changed since then.”

“Do you have a more recent map around here somewhere?” Markus asked.

“I do, actually,” North said. She dug through one of the drawers in her desk and pulled out another slip of paper. The map was shiny, colorful, and had no tears or stains on it. “I keep a few of these around to base some of my sketches on. It'd be my dream to start building this town back up again,” she confessed. North offered the new map to Markus, but pulled her hand back and tilted her head. “Hey, Markus, how about we make a deal? Let me keep the old map, and I'll work on your roof and plumbing free of charge. Well, apart from the materials I'll need help gathering. Deal?”

“Seems more than fair,” Markus replied with a smirk. “Deal.”

Markus thanked North as he made his way back to the door. Leah called out to him before he clicked the door handle, telling him to look out for forage in the next few days since the rain helped them grow. He was glad for the advice and the potential to forage ingredients for something healthy like a salad. Markus figured he could only survive on protein bars and leftover road trip snacks for so long.

-

South of North’s cabin was a trail that led down to the center of town. As Markus followed the path, he kept his eyes open for potential goodies to forage. A tall, dark-skinned man knelt under the umbrella of a pine tree next to the shrubs on the cliffside, holding several small, glass tubes.

“Oh, uh, hey there,” Markus greeted. “I’m the new farmer that just moved in. My name’s Markus, what’s yours?”

The man glanced up at Markus briefly to acknowledge him. “Josh,” he answered, returning his attention to the experiment he was conducting. “Sorry, friend, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just finishing up with taking samples.”

“No worries,” Markus replied. “What are you studying?”

“Soil salinization and rain concentration,” Josh said with a small smile and frustration in his voice. Josh placed the tubes filled with dirt and rainwater into his test tube rack and brushed off his hands. “I’m testing the increasing levels of salts in the Valley’s soil, but I’m still trying to figure out why. This will be my seventh trial of the month, but I doubt the results will change much.” The man’s eyes widened in realization as he looked back up at Markus. “You’re a farmer, right? What can you tell me about soil?”

Markus knelt in the dirt beside Josh to get out of the rain, and he ran his fingers through the mud, humming thoughtfully to the dark, wet earth. “I can tell you that there might be either heavy erosion or improper irrigation in the area that's causing the soil consistency to change. No one else in Pelican Town uses a lot of land to farm, right?”

Josh shook his head. “Not unless you count Elijah Kamski.”

“The guy who owns the general store?”

“Yeah. Though I’m pretty sure he just uses his back garden to grow vegetables. That reminds me: I should ask him what pesticides he’s using.”

Markus hummed in agreement. “There could be other things affecting the Valley that are worsening the soil. I noticed there’s a lot of pollution in the river and ocean when I was fishing yesterday. Not to mention, I haven’t seen any fauna since I arrived. Something big’s gotta be messing with the ecosystem’s equilibrium if it’s scaring off the wildlife and degrading the soil fertility. I’m assuming you’re testing the soil’s pH, but it might help to also look into testing the water quality and monitoring the aquatic populations. Could be run off from somewhere up north that’s causing this, too.” Josh stared back at him with his eyebrows raised and a big grin. “What?”

“I’m impressed,” Josh said. His smile broke when Markus frowned. “I don’t mean to patronize, friend, it’s just that people talk. They all said a city boy moved in on that old farm, and that plot of land has been barren for years. Everybody here thinks you’re unqualified,” he admitted in a low voice. “I’m sorry I underestimated you.”

Markus huffed, “Yeah, uh. Wait.” He felt the folded up map in the back pocket of his jeans. “Didn't there used to be a mine nearby?”

“Yes, but it's been mostly inactive for the past few decades. I get a feeling that whatever is happening to this soil, it's going to get even worse.”

“How come?”

“Some corporate contractors have been surveying the land east of the river and are looking to open the mines again, though I doubt they’ll find anything valuable down there. Their digging caused a massive rockslide, and the area’s been closed off for a while.”

“So you won't be able to take samples from there until they clear out the mess they made and allow access.” 

“Exactly,” Josh sighed. “I'm glad at least one person understands and cares what I'm talking about.” 

Markus clenched his fists, trying to hold them down to prevent them from shaking. It'd been stupid of him to assume that he could escape all his problems by coming back to the Valley. He only hoped his problems hadn't followed him here to ruin his home, too. There was only so much one man could do.

Josh stood up and smiled down at him, holding his test tube rack in one hand and offering his other to help Markus up. “Maybe we could look into this together,” Josh offered. “What did you say your name was again?”

-

There wasn’t much else for Markus to do to be productive besides meet more of the townsfolk or try some more fishing, but he’d purposefully forgotten his fishing pole at home. He was too tired to try patience. He sighed in resignation.

Rain was always a weakness of his, breaking down the man he’d become into the frightened little boy he used to be. He despised the rain that washed away his façade, washed away his confidence and optimism. It left nothing behind but broken pieces he still couldn’t fix even after all these years.

Markus hung his head low on his walk into town, trying to ignore the rain that pelted his coat. The downpour drummed on the cobblestone of the town plaza, and the yellow light outside of the saloon’s door flickered in the wet reflection on the pavement. Markus pulled his raincoat tighter in on himself and ran to stand under the saloon’s overhanging to dry off.

He pulled on the brass handle of the door, and warmth radiated from within the old establishment. Hot pies with flaky crust and fresh herbs lined the wooden counters of the bar, and Markus smiled as the scent of vanilla and old-fashioned root beer filled his senses.

Markus pulled out a barstool and slid into his seat with memories of the saloon playing over and over in his mind like a scratchy record.

-

_ “ Oh, no, Markus _ _,”_ Carl snickered. _“_ __Little boys aren’t allowed to come in here, you k_ now _ . _”_

_“ What if I’m not a little boy?”_ Markus asked, deepening his voice as much as he could. Carl threw back his head in laughter and ruffled his grandson’s messy curls. He stilled with his hand in Markus’s hair, frozen wearing a dramatically concerned expression on his face.

_ “ Uh-oh! Don’t big boys remember to comb their hair? _ _”_ Carl teased. _“_ _ Markus, I think my hand’s stuck _ _,”_ he gasped.

_ “No, it isn’t! _ _”_ Markus giggled, wriggling free to hug his grandfather. _“_ _ I came ‘cause I wanted to show you my loose tooth before we gotta go. _ ” Markus flicked his tongue over his front tooth, wiggling it back and forth excitedly. _“_ _ See? ” _

_ “ Oh, my _ _,”_ Carl said. _“_ _ My mistake, then. You  are  a  big boy. How about we celebrate the way  men do, eh, Markus? ” _

Markus nodded eagerly and scrambled up onto the barstool. His legs bounced and fingers drummed on the wooden counter impatiently.

_ “ Jimmy, could we get a vanilla bourbon and a kid float to go? ” _

_ “ Alright, Manfred, but as soon as you get your drinks, your boy’s gotta go. ” _

_ “ Thanks. ” _

Once the glasses had been slid over the counter, Carl helped Markus off the stool and carried their drinks outside. Carl groaned as he sat down on the park bench, and Markus offered his hands to help his grandpa. Carl laughed and handed Markus his root beer float. Markus leaned his face into the cup and breathed in the scent of vanilla, so strong and rich. They clinked their glasses and drank quickly before the heat of the summer sun melted the cream. Markus looked up to see his grandpa with foam coating his upper lip and the tip of his nose, and he decided to copy his grandpa by dipping his finger in the foam from his cup and smearing it on his face.

With a foam mustache, Carl teased, _“_ _ That’s not very mature of big boys, Markus. ” _

_ “ You did it first, Grandpa! _ _”_ Markus laughed. _“_ _ Look at your face _ _,”_ he said, pulling Carl over to the river bank to see his ridiculous reflection.

_ “ Well, look at that _ _,”_ Carl exclaimed. _“_ _ Now I look as silly as you do _ _.”_ Carl scooped up Markus in his arms and held him over the rippling water. _“_ __We should get you cleaned up, Markus.”_ _ Carl teased, _“_ _ How about a bath in the river? ” _

_ “ No! _ _”_ Markus squealed.

Carl set Markus down on the grass and kneeled on the bank with a sad smile. He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and dipped the cloth into the river, then he began wiping at the mess on Markus’s face. _“_ _ You know how your mother gets when you have stuff on your face, son. _ _”_ Carl looked down and noticed a sugary stain on the front of Markus’s shirt. _“_ _ Or your clothes _ _,”_ he chuckled.

_ “ Then maybe I  should bathe in the river _ _,”_ Markus meekly suggested.

_ “ No, no, son. I’m just teasing ya. The water’s too rough and your mother would- Let’s just walk back, okay? ” _

_ “ Okay _ _,”_ Markus replied with a pout. _“_ _ I don’t really like my mom, Grandpa. ” _

Carl almost tripped over his feet. _“_ _ You can’t say things like that, son. ” _

_ “ But it’s true! She already told me that I’ll get money for my tooth when we get home and that it’s not gonna be from the tooth fairy. ” _

Carl frowned. _“_ _ Why did she say that? ” _

“ _ She don’t want me to talk to the fairies anymore. I know you’re friends with the fairies, Grandpa, and I thought you could tell them about my tooth when I’m gone. _ ” Markus sighed and swung his arms as he walked. “ _ I’m gonna miss the fairies, Grandpa. Do you think they’ll forget about me? _ ”

_ “ Never. _ _”_ Carl smiled and wrapped his arm around Markus’s shoulders. _“_ _ You’re the brightest boy I’ve ever met, Markus. No one could forget about you. ” _

“ _ Not even the fairies? _ ”

_ “ Not even the fairies _ _,”_ Carl assured. He whispered into the boy’s ear, _“_ _ And I’ll be sure to put in a good word with the fairies for you. ” _

Markus wrapped his arms around his grandpa’s leg, hugging tightly. _“_ _ Thank you, Grandpa. _ _”_

The smell of vanilla lingered on Markus’s clothes and in his mind on the long bus ride home.

-

“I told you already, it's Echo,” a woman said, gritting her teeth. Markus blinked awake at the sound of the voice, and he looked over to where it came from. The woman had shoulder-length dark blue hair tied back in a ponytail and wore a peach-colored apron. She narrowed her eyes at the heavy, bearded man sitting across from her.

“Echo doesn't suit a fine lady like you though, does it, Traci?” The bearded man spoke with a slight twang, but the way his voice drawled didn’t hide the malice underneath.

“Call me that one more time and I'll have Jimmy throw you outta here,” the blue-haired woman threatened.

“Listen here, you bitch,” the man growled, “your job here is to serve me, not give me lip!”

Markus stood up abruptly and strode over, clenching his fists. “Excuse me! Everything alright here?”

The man breathed a loud sigh, feigning relief and raising a hand to smooth back his greasy brown hair. “Ah, you must be that new farmer. I'm Zlatko. ‘Live just across the river east there. You’re from the city, right? You the one who inherited that big, old farm?”

“I wasn't talking to you,” Markus said coldly.

The man, Zlatko, looked back at Echo, then caught a glimpse of the bartender in the corner and turned red-faced. Zlatko cursed under his breath and pushed past Markus, slamming into his shoulder on the way out.

Markus turned back around to find a shaken Echo with arms crossed.

“Thanks, but I don’t need you to play hero for me,” she scorned.

Echo pushed through the arched, swinging doors behind the bar to head to the staff room. Markus was confused at her reaction, but he couldn’t blame her for it. He awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck then reclaimed his seat and took off his raincoat to get more comfortable. 

The bartender -- Jimmy, Markus read from his name tag -- leaned over on the counter across from Markus and gave him a sympathetic look. “Hey, new guy, don’t worry about it. If you hadn’t stepped in, I wouldn’t’ve heard all the commotion,” he spoke in a low voice. “Echo handles that asshole as best as she -- sorry,  _ they _ \-- can, but he don’t listen to folks unless they got some kinda authority over him. I try to step in when I can before things get ugly, but there’s only so much I can do.”

“I heard Echo mention that you could throw him outta here. It get this bad before?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. But he’s a big man, and I don’t have no power outside the saloon to put him in his place. No matter what I say, he always come back,” the bartender sighed.

Markus frowned. “Wait, what about Connor? Can’t he do something about it?”

He glanced across the saloon for wandering eyes and leaned in closer to Markus. “Last I heard, he was already diggin’ into Zlatko’s history, but there’s apparently a whole lot more shit he’s gotta clean up before it hits the fan. Heavier shit than misdemeanors, ya know?” Jimmy stood back up straight and threw the towel he carried over his shoulder. “Listen, new guy. I know Connor, and I know he’ll shut that neckbeard down for good; we just gotta give it time.”

Markus nodded slowly, trying to grasp the fact that he might have just stirred things up with a criminal. The thought boiled his insides, but hearing that Connor was handling it soothed his nerves.

“So, uh, you know the sheriff pretty well?”

Jimmy looked Markus up and down, whistling low. “Oh, you wanna do that now, huh?”

Markus tilted his head, confused. “I’d like to know more about him, yeah.”

“Well, as much as I’d like to dish out gossip, I got some more customers to serve,” Jimmy gestured with a nod to the door where a man entered with his head hung low. 

“I don’t want to know his life story, just a few things about him,” Markus requested. 

Markus admitted to himself that he actually would like to know Connor’s full story, but he wanted to hear that from the man himself. Connor had been quick to close off and shut Markus out. While Markus wasn’t a patient man, he didn’t mind that he would have to take his time earning the sheriff’s trust. That was the beauty of simple living, going through life slowly and thoughtfully.

Though he barely knew the man, Markus felt a connection to Connor, an innate desire to tend the seeds of their companionship and watch them grow -- maybe even grow into something more. Markus was aware of his idealistic tendency to dream when the odds weren’t in his favor, but it wasn’t a habit he tried hard to control either. Something about being back home fed into his imagination and kindhearted, optimistic nature. As a child, he might have even called it magic, and while it certainly felt like magic back then, the adult Markus would often dismiss the notion as nostalgia or looking through rose colored glasses.

Somehow, though, Connor made Markus want to believe again.

The bartender gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “Order somethin’, new guy, and we’ll talk,” Jimmy offered.

“Thank you,” Markus said, fetching a menu from the opposite end of the counter.

Jimmy left to check in with the disheveled man who’d just come in and sunk into the corner by the end of the bar counter. Markus adjusted himself in his seat to get a look at the stranger. He wore a navy, stained zip-up jacket and a faded baseball cap that failed to hide his messy dark hair. He looked to be in his late twenties, but the dark circles under his eyes, the tired posture he held, and the worry lines of his brows made Markus wonder if he was actually older. The man sulked in the corner, nursing a beer and looking down into his glass miserably. It reminded Markus of how low he’d felt as a teenager, especially with his identity, though he figured he didn’t have it so bad. Not every kid had someone on their side or someone to listen. Not every kid got the support they needed.

-

He climbed up to the top of the fire escape to clear his mind from the overwhelming noise of his parents arguing in their small apartment. Markus wasn’t sure what to expect when he decided to come out to his parents. Too long had his dad been indifferent at home, sporting a stone face and shrugging away every suggestion, dismissing any concerns. Too long had his mom been pent up with her rage and disappointment at not being able to control everything or make it perfect. He didn’t want his mom to treat him like he was another broken thing that needed to be fixed. Maybe it wasn't a good time for Markus to tell them he was bisexual. Maybe there just wasn't a good time for anything with his folks.

From the top of the fire escape, the world would seem so wide and infinite. Today however, the world felt smaller than ever, and Markus wondered if there’d ever be a place for him. Below his swinging feet and less than a block away from his complex stood a small bakery. Strong scents of vanilla trailed out from the shop and rose in the air to quell Markus’s worries. Vanilla reminded him of his childhood and paired with the scent of bourbon, it reminded Markus of his grandpa.

Rapidly, Markus raced down the flight of stairs to the window of his bedroom. When he dialed the number, he held his breath. Carl answered within just two rings, and his voice relieved Markus.

He told his grandpa what he’d told his parents. _“_ _ That’s wonderful, son _ _,”_ Carl said. _“_ _ I’m so proud of you. ” _

Markus’s cheeks were wet, but he didn’t mind. He knew he was loved, accepted unconditionally.

A week later, a package arrived in the mail wrapped carefully in brown paper and tied in twine. Within it was a beautiful flag, hand stitched, bringing the colors pink, violet, and blue together. A letter signed from both Leo and Carl put their acceptance into writing, telling Markus that they always knew he had the biggest heart and so much love to give. 

The last gift in the package was an old instant photograph taken at the Stardrop Saloon. Carl was standing in the middle with his arms around Jimmy to his right and a seven-year-old Markus to his left. Jimmy was wiping under his eyes, Carl had his head thrown back in laughter, and Markus stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes. It smelled of vanilla.

-

The clank of a glass on the wooden countertop startled Markus back into reality. Jimmy stood behind the bar smirking at Markus’s reaction to the drink he’d set down in front of him. A root beer float with the same rich scent of vanilla he remembered.

“I thought I recognized you, boy,” Jimmy chuckled. “I remember your pops would always ask for this,” he gestured to the float, saying, “and even though you wasn’t allowed to be in here, I let it slide for Carl and his favorite little boy.” Jimmy smiled wide and tossed his towel between his hands. “Man, you were so tiny! You’d come in here actin’ all tough, but you couldn’t even climb on the stool by yourself,” Jimmy wheezed.

“Hey, I’m tall enough now to reach it,” Markus replied with a smirk.

“Yeah, that you are, boy. You used to come in here and sit next to your pops, starin’ at me with your weird eyes and listen to stories,” Jimmy reminisced, holding the towel still in his hands. “After a while of bendin’ the rules for y’all, I had to be more strict with the age limit, you know.”

“Of course. I don’t blame you.”

Jimmy leaned in to speak more quietly, “You know, I gotta admit ‘was concerned ‘bout your interest in Connor. That boy’s been through enough, and I don’t wanna see him hurt. Hank’d raise hell if that happened,” he trailed off. “But I remembered that little boy with the two different colored eyes who had a heart of gold, and well…” Jimmy paused for a moment, looking aside wistfully. He threw the towel over his shoulder again. “Well, what do you wanna know?”

Markus fumbled for words, and Jimmy glanced down at the jean jacket that Markus wore. On the worst days, Markus liked to wear his favorite jacket for good luck. The front of the jacket was decorated with various patches and pins of all colors and pride flags. Markus felt flushed, worried Jimmy would notice the pins and have a negative reaction. Instead, Jimmy just nodded.

“Well since your tongue’s tied, I’ll just tell you what I think you oughta know.” Markus nodded back. “Connor, he...he walks on the other side of the street, if you catch my drift.” Markus didn’t understand, but he didn’t want to interrupt to ask what that meant. “He’s always been pretty lonely, but he’s friends with that blonde girl, Chloe. She’s the general store owner’s daughter. And Connor’s also very close with his dad, but he ain’t the overly affectionate type.”

“I figured as much,” Markus mused.

“I got one last thing to tell you, boy,” Jimmy emphasized pointing a finger at Markus’s head, “so listen close or your big, fool head is gonna forget: don’t treat Connor like a pet project. That boy may be shy and kinda reserved, but I seen him kick ass and take names without batting’ an eye.”

Markus held the bartender’s gaze for a moment, and he felt like his soul was being searched. Another moment passed by, but Markus didn’t falter. Jimmy nodded and made a quiet sound of approval before tending to the bar again.

Markus sipped on the root beer and felt the weight of the new map folded up in his back pocket. Curiosity won him over, and he figured it couldn’t hurt to get a better look at it now that he was warm and dry.

He flattened out the crisp folds and lines of the map and immediately took notice of how different it was to the old map. It was still a map of Stardew Valley. The names of the neighboring towns were the same -- as was most of the structure, but it didn’t feel like the place he once knew.

Shops had closed. Homes had been abandoned. The population decreased. Pelican Town could no longer rely on income from the mines, and those closed down as well, leaving behind broken industrial infrastructure. The bus to Calico Desert and Ravendale had shut down, cutting off the town’s connections to the other communities. Roads and ferries had closed down, limiting the Valley’s access to the places that drew in tourists.

It was the natural landscape, quirky cultural customs, and passion of the townsfolk that kept the Valley from completely crumbling under, caving into any pathetic amount of wealth offered in exchange for a claim to the land. It already seemed like folks started giving up hope at the same rate that the land was deteriorating.

Not much was left in this little town. Not much could be saved.

It was a bittersweet reality for Markus to face.  _ More bitter than sweet _ _,_ he mused.

From the corner of the saloon, he heard a loud thump and looked over to see the disheveled man in the stained jacket slumped over on the floor, empty glass rolling towards Markus’s feet. Echo quickly emerged from the back room with towels and water, and Jimmy rushed to the man’s side to help him up. Markus threw a look over to the bartender as if to offer assistance, but Jimmy shooed him off with a wave of his hand. 

Markus helplessly watched as Jimmy hoisted up the man, supporting his weight with an arm behind his back and underneath his shoulder. Echo cursed under their breath when they supported his weight on the other side and guided the man to sit down next to the saloon door.

He sniffled and cried out in broken sobs, “Please! D-don’t tell Rose.”

Echo shushed the man with soft, soothing words, and Markus heard them promise to sober him up and walk him home. They brought the glass of water to his lips and tossed the extra towel to Jimmy who’d begun wiping the spill.

The tag team seemed too well-prepared for this situation, though Markus was appreciative that the bartenders took care of the man. Still, Markus figured that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with how organized their actions were, and he worried for him.

After Echo and the man left, the saloon quieted down, and Markus realized his float was sinking and melting. He managed to down a little more than half of the glass, but his appetite was lost. He returned his attention to the map in front of him.

The longer Markus inspected the map, the sicker he felt. There were so many broken homes and buildings abandoned whose fate would not be kind. His heart pounded faster and faster as his finger traced the map from north to south, west to east. 

Markus’s finger paused past the eastern river. His heart stopped. Written in small, blue letters was Joja Corporation.

East of the river with a claim to the abandoned quarry and mines was where it stood. Joja. The root of the Ferngill Republic’s problems that spread like weeds to choke out the dreams of a small rural town. Or the dreams of a determined, not-quite city-boy. Dreams to protect the earth, his home, the ones he loved. 

_ Join us _ . 

And so many did. So many were complacent with the destruction Joja created because convenience and instant gratification were the ultimate temptation of this generation. 

_ Thrive. _

The people wanted more and more, not caring where it came from or who was getting screwed over in the progress, so long as it was fast, cheap, and came from Joja wrapped up with a plastic smile. 

_ Join us. _

It would drown out the bird’s song, bury the flowers, and silence the town’s voice.

The pain Markus felt reached his lungs, and he felt like he was suffocating. He threw on his raincoat, paid his bill, and ran into the rain.

_ Thrive.  _

The earth cried out. It begged to not be forgotten. “You promised!’ that voice cried out. 

_ Join us. Thrive.  _

Heart pounding and hands shaking, Markus ran through the rain. He felt the ground tremble and reach out for him. 

_ Join us. _

A flash, and he saw hands sprouting from the earth, greedy and desperate. His own hands shook, and his knees gave out. Markus sunk into the earth, ever bound to the roots of bureaucracy. The world fell underneath him again and swallowed him whole.

His home faded away, and he had been too far away to stop it. Guilt weighed him down, but it wasn’t his fault, was it?

Things were not what they seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, and thank you for the support <3
> 
> btw did anyone get my obscure starkid reference?  
> -  
> zlatko: "here the women treat me like a throwaway joke!"  
> literally everyone else: "throw him awaaaaaaaaaaaaay!♩♪"
> 
> quick question y'all:  
> how slow do y'all want this slowburn? i currently have chapters outlined that go by each ingame day that passes, but once we get to *that point in the beginning of stardew valley* (won't spoil for new players), i was considering moving at a quicker pace so we can get these boys together and make everyone happy (lmao)


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